Toy Soldiers
by Nifty Niffler
Summary: Takes place following the Final Battle. Harry gets lost in his guilt and grief. This story will document his recovery from all that he's suffered.
1. Bit by Bit, Torn Apart

_**Bit by bit, torn apart, the battle wages on..**_

Under his Cloak, he stared at the massive toll the battle and taken. Families huddled together in bittersweet relief, glad for those who had survived while heavyhearted at their losses. Mothers' keening wails reached his ears filling him with guilt and shame. If only he'd acted sooner... Sobs from those he'd called friends reached his ears and the guilt intensified.

One group of family and friends drew his attention. The mother continuously hugged her children while heavy tears fell down her cheeks. She seemed to count each one, kissing them, before moving on to the next. The father kept his arm around the mother to keep her on her feet as much as it was to reassure him she was safe. The sons all stood stoically and stayed in close contact with each other while the lone daughter sat at the table, bent over with her elbows resting on her knees, hands covering her face as her shoulders convulsed in misery. Another girl stood among them, clinging desperately to the youngest son.

Tearing his eyes away from the reunion, they landed on the pound of flesh the Scales of Balance had required to right themselves again. To his way of thinking, they took more than their fair share. He stared at the cloth draped forms, some of which were much smaller than they should have been. Faces swam before his eyes of those fallen comrades he'd known. Fred, a smile forever frozen on his face. Tiny Colin who never should have been there. Remus, his last link to his parents. Tonks, whose klutzy ways and bright personality was at odds with her chosen profession. Snape was there amongst the shrouded forms, someone who had been misjudged for most of his life, who had more Gryffindor courage in him than most placed into that House.

Faces of others who had been sacrificed for the sake of the Light came, unbidden, before him. Sirius, the stubborn git, was always quick with a joke. Dumbledore, the greatest wizard known, who had passed on all his knowledge in the hopes the Light would prevail. Moody and his 'Constant Vigilance' motto. He may have been paranoid but he'd had every reason to be. Even Hedwig made an appearance, staring reproachfully at him with her wise yellow eyes. Then there was Goyle, a student, burned to death by his own hand. Bellatrix and her fanatical rantings, always taunting, causing pain and enjoying it. And, of course, Tom Riddle, whose lack of a loving childhood, started the whole catastrophe.

Fear, sweat, death, dust from the scorched stones, and burned wood combined into one horrific stench, turning his stomach. Blindly, he made his way out the main doors to a tree. Tugging off his Cloak, he bent over and heaved. Stomach finally empty, he shakily leaned against the tree and looked back at Hogwarts. The school stood, broken but not defeated. Of their own volition, his eyes sought out the massive hole in the wall where Fred had breathed his last. After a moment, they moved on to notice the missing tower, broken windows, broken doors and pock marked stones left by errant spells.

Not able to face the glaring proof of a battle having taken place, he turned on the spot and disappeared. The first thing he did upon reappearing was to check if he was, indeed, alone. To his great relief, he was. Feeling weary and chilled to the bone, he stumbled to the sitting room couch and lay back, praying for sleep. What little sleep that came, came in fits accompanied by flashing lights, friends dying, and buildings collapsing.

After waking to his own shouts for the fourth time, he got up and headed down to the kitchen. Rummaging through the pantry, he found some old firewhiskey. Remembering how brandy seemed to calm his uncle after a hard day, he shrugged. Dusting off the bottle, he poured a generous amount into a glass. Carrying both items to the table, he sat and took his first sip. Wincing at the burn as it went down, he coughed but took another sip. Before he knew it, he'd polished off his glass and was feeling as if he could finally sleep. The thought of climbing all those stairs was too much so he placed the bottle and glass on the little table by the couch in the sitting room. He lay back onto the couch and slept.

When he woke, his stomach heaved. Clearing away the mess, he gingerly sat up. His head pounded in an intensity that could have rivaled his scar pains. The room swayed so he lay back down. Turning his head, he spied the bottle and glass. He'd often heard his cousin mention hangovers and a way to get rid of them was to have a bit of the same drink you had gotten drunk with. Figuring it was worth a try, he reached out a shaky hand and poured himself a drink. He ended up spilling more than he got into his glass, however, and had to clean it up. Finally getting some into the glass, he drank it down in one gulp. Amazingly enough, ten minutes later, his headache slipped to a dull roar, the room righted itself, and he no longer felt nauseous.

"Huh, I'll definitely be remembering that."

A few hours were spent roaming the house. Exhausted beyond belief, he lay down again in the hopes of getting some much needed sleep. As soon as he drifted off, nightmares assaulted him. Jerking awake, sweating profusely, and shaking violently, he huddled in the corner of the couch. He stayed there for a long time trying to get the images out of his head. His head jerked up, wand out, at a creaking sound but he saw nothing.

"Probably just this old house settling."

His eyes landed on the firewhiskey as if it were a beacon. "What the hell, it worked the last time."

Pouring a glassful, he gulped it down and waited. Sure enough, the heat spread to his limbs and the shaking subsided. Realizing how late in the day it truly was, he was surprised no one had come to see him.

"Well, if that's the way they want it, then so be it. Can't really blame them. All those good people are dead because of me. They want to stay away, then let them. I'll even make it easy on them. _Kreacher!_"

The house-elf appeared with a pop. Before the elf could say anything, Harry brusquely spoke.

"I want this place sealed off from everyone and everything. No one gains entrance but you or me. I don't even want you to be able to bring anyone here with you. Disconnect the fireplace from the Floo while you're at it. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Master Harry."

With a quick flick of the tiny wrinkled hand, the house at Grimmauld Place became a fortress hiding away a broken, haunted hero.

"Master's friends are looking for him, especially the red haired ones."

"Oh, so _now_ they're looking. Realized I'm not there, have they?" Harry asked scornfully. "Just tell them to quit pretending. They've shown their true colors. They can go on and live their lives. I won't be there to muck it up for them."

As he spoke, he began to shake once more. Seemingly of its own volition, the firewhiskey bottle lifted and poured more contents into the glass beside it. Automatically, he reached for the glass and gulped it as if it were pumpkin juice. Relief flooded through him as he, once again, felt calmer, numbing him to the hurt, anger, and guilt that had been threatening to explode.

"I want to be left alone. Go help with the clean-up or anything else they need you to do."

With that, Harry grabbed the now almost empty bottle, tapped it with his wand to refill it and grabbed the glass. He headed for a bedroom without a backward glance.


	2. It's Getting Hard to Wake Up

_**It's getting hard to wake up in the morning,**_

_**My head is spinning constantly...**_

Harry picked a room at random and set the bottle and glass on the bedside table. Falling onto the bed, he sat, staring sightlessly, shoulders slumped, arms resting limply in his lap. There was no way he could stay in Sirius' old room. He certainly wouldn't be staying in his and Ron's old room. He couldn't even force himself to use Regulus' old room, so he sat in this unused room staring blankly at the opposite wall. While the faces of the fallen had paraded themselves before his eyes earlier, Regulus hadn't been one of them. He'd completely forgotten about him and for that Harry piled on more guilt and shame. Regulus had been the first to discover Voldemort's Horcruxes and sacrificed himself in the hopes the evil object would be destroyed.

Just the idea of Horcruxes and someone making such a sacrifice quickened Harry's breathing, heart pounding. Sweat broke out all over. His body quaked. He began to feel dizzy and lightheaded so he squeezed his eyes shut but the images relentlessly marched across his mind's eye.

"No," he pleaded, "I don't want to think of it anymore. Please just go away."

They didn't, however, and the images of the dead, now very much alive and accusing Harry of taking too long to defeat Voldemort and how Harry was tainted with all of their blood on his hands, appeared in his mind like an old muggle record player, going around and around. Crushing his fists against his temples, he began to rock and beg.

"Leave me alone. Please. Just go away."

Several long minutes of this passed before Harry grabbed the glass from the bedside table and flung it, hard, against the wall.

"LEAVE. ME. ALONE!"

He watched the shards fly, twinkling in the early evening light. He felt like those shards, damaged and jagged. Entranced, he picked up a particularly sharp piece and ran his thumb over the tip, pressing slightly. Harry took it back to the bed, his eyes never leaving it. With his other hand, he grabbed the bottle, uncorked it and took a swig. Feeling calmer, he continued to caress the glass as he studied it. An interminably long period of time passed before he reluctantly set the piece of glass on the table top next to the firewhiskey bottle.

Harry noticed the sun had gone down and night had begun its descent. Scooting into the corner of the bed, his back resting in the pocket the juncture of the walls created, he pulled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and lay his head upon his knees. He hated the dark, now. It carried too many memories. At that moment, he couldn't think of a single good thing about the inky blackness. Leaving the light to blaze, he settled in for a long wait.

On several occasions during the night, Harry would start to drift off when some sound, real or imagined, would jerk him awake, hyper-aware of his surroundings. Each time it happened, he reached for the bottle to calm himself. Each time he did so, it took a little more of the red amber liquid to get back in control. Finally, as the rest of the world began to wake, Harry fell into a liquor induced slumber.

When next he woke, his head felt like it had been detached, placed on one of those spinning carnival rides and then replaced on his shoulders. His first act was to grab the firewhiskey. Forcing his eyes apart, the first thing he noticed was that it was afternoon. He then realized he hadn't dreamed, not a single thing. Studying the bottle still in his hand, he caressed it lightly, a sardonic smile on his face.

"The first real sleep I've gotten in a long time," his voice scratchy but no less bitter, "and all because of a little drink. You've helped me when I've needed it. You haven't let me down. Who needs human friends when the best friend a person could have is right here. You and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other, I believe."

Putting the bottle on the table, he noticed the glass shard from the previous evening. He momentarily lost himself in its sparkling facade of innocence. Lovingly, his thumb caressed the point, digging in ever so slightly. He watched as a red bead formed but he felt nothing. Pressing harder, the bead grew until it slowly trickled down the side, breaking the shard's illusion of innocence. Noticing for the first time that he was still in his torn and bloody clothes, he replaced the shard and gingerly got up to go look for some clothes.

Not able to face either of the two obvious rooms to check, he opened Regulus' room. It was still pretty much as they had left it all those months ago. Opening the wardrobe, Harry found Regulus had been much taller than himself. Trousers were apparently out of the question. The shirts were a bit overlarge but not as bad as Dudley's had been.

"Well, that settles it then. _Kreacher!_"

The diminutive elf appeared before his Master. His eyes looked upon the hero of the wizarding world, the one everyone wanted to meet to give him their thanks and filled with sadness. He knew his Master was in need of help but his Master had forbidden him from bringing anyone to the house.

Harry saw the pity in his elf's eyes and it angered him. He didn't need it nor did he want it! His anger made his voice as cold as the Black Lake in the dead of winter.

"Kreacher, Hermione still has my clothes in her beaded bag. I need them. Get my trunk from the Burrow while you're at it."

"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir needs?"

"No, now go."

His answer was the soft pop of elf apparition. Reasons why Hermione still had his clothes and why his trunk was at the Burrow bombarded him. The shaking recommenced, heart pounded, breathing became harsh and ragged. Weakness infused his limbs and he sank to his knees next to the wardrobe, his hands covered his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sounds.

"No, don't think about it. Go away," he beseeched the ghostly memories.

Stumbling to his feet, he nearly ran for his room. He fumbled the cork off the bottle and tilted the remaining contents down his throat. In his haste for relief, he neglected to leave a bit so he could refill the bottle. He tapped his wand against the bottle but nothing happened. Again, he tried the spell. And again, nothing. Realizing what had happened, he lost it. As hard as he could and with a tortured yell, he heaved the empty bottle against the wall. It shattered into tiny glittering pieces. The reappearance of Kreacher stopped Harry from finding something else to throw.

Kreacher took one look at the glass littering the floor and shook his head. _This will not do. Master cannot be allowed to hurt himself on all this glass._ A snap of his fingers and the glass disappeared then he looked to Harry.

"Don't look at me like that. It's my glass, my bottle. I can throw things if I want and if I don't feel like picking up any of it, I don't have to. Did you get my clothes?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. I have one more job for you to do. Go to Gringotts, take out some galleons and exchange it for muggle money. Bring it back here immediately after and you can go back to Hogwarts. I don't need you here. I don't want you here."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher despondently replied. He disappeared.

Harry pulled out a pair of jeans from the pile Kreacher had left. His heart still pounded, his breathing still ragged; he still shook but somehow managed to get dressed. By the time Kreacher arrived, Harry was fidgeting horribly, anxious to get out and get what he needed before nightfall. He grabbed the money Kreacher held out, stuffed it into his back pocket and stalked down the stairs on jittery legs. The door flew open before him and Harry practically ran out, slamming it behind him.

Harry had no idea where to go to get what he was looking for. At random, he picked a direction and started walking. He paid no attention to the residences around him. There was only one place he wanted to see. After walking a few minutes, he came upon a large city park, Barnard Park. Children's laughter reached his ears and looking in that direction, he saw a playground. Kids played on swings, slides, one of those half-dome pieces of equipment that allowed them to climb on or hang upside down, among other pieces of equipment.

Without any warning, the shrieks of laughter became echoing screams of terror. His mind turned the joyful chasing games into panic-filled escapes. His already shaky limbs quaked. He broke out into a sweat, battling to breathe as his heart tried to escape his chest. His vision swam bringing images of another reason for shrieks and running. Clenching his eyes closed, he fought the spinning sensation that threatened to bring him down.

When that didn't work, he ran, as hard and fast as he could. He didn't stop until he came out of the residential area and into more of the commercial section. A few seconds later he found what he'd hoped to find. The sign out front said Gerry's. Harry didn't really care what the name was as long as they had what he needed. Opening the door, he walked inside.

The man behind the counter, Gerry, looked up when his door opened. It was obvious the kid had never been inside his store before as the teen stood and scanned the interior. His cheerful greeting died on his lips as he inspected the youth. The trembling he noticed first. Next came the obvious signs of sweating. Gerry watched the young man move among the aisles, eying the bottles as if he were looking for something specific. Gerry kept his eyes on the kid, noting the look of relief and satisfaction that crossed the kid's face when he came upon the whiskey. The way the boy reverently picked up a couple bottles, swallowed, and licked his lips bothered Gerry. In his profession, he'd seen many people with the identical expression and mannerisms this boy exhibited. He wondered what could have happened to drive someone so young to this point. Gerry stood as the boy came up to the register.

"How old are ya, son?"

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped. "I'm not your son. I'm not anybody's son. I'm eighteen."

Mentally, Harry added _in three months._

Gerry took in the defiant stance, tense body language, and eyes hard as jade. "Have any ID on ya?"

Harry just stared. Inside, he was beginning to panic thinking this man wouldn't let him buy the alcohol. One hand casually reached into his pocket, his _empty_ pocket. Silently cursing, Harry really started to panic. _I left my wand in the house. How stupid of me. Now what am I going to do if he won't let me have it?_

Gerry sighed. "Thought not. You don't really need that stuff. That stuff'll kill ya, y'know."

"What I _need_ is none of your bloody business. You going to let me buy this or not?"

Gerry thought long and hard. There were others who would sell this kid anything he wanted without bothering to check for ID. _Maybe if I sell it to him now, he'll come back. I can keep an eye on him that way. From the looks of it, he's in serious trouble and has no one. _He sighed again.

"I will on one condition." He waited until the boy nodded. "You only come to me for this stuff. No one else."

"Fine."

Harry reached into his back pocket, pulled out the appropriate amount of money, and left. Inwardly, he laughed at the man. _If only he knew I would have come here anyway seeing as it's the closest._ Harry hurried into the alley beside the store. Setting one bottle down, he fumbled the lid off the other. The instant the strong liquid hit his stomach, he felt calm, relieved, that everything was okay again. Harry spent a few minutes enjoying his bottle before picking up the spare and headed for home. It was getting late and he seriously wanted to avoid being out at night.

Walking back by the park, he noticed the kids were still playing, loving parents calling out to them occasionally. _Someone should tell those kids that life isn't all fun and games. They'd be a lot better prepared for it if they knew ahead of time._ Turning away, he noticed a young couple, arm in arm, walking through the park. The guy's head bent close to the girl's and said something that made her laugh. Then they stopped and kissed tenderly.

Thoughts of Ginny swirled through Harry's mind and his chest began to hurt. _Stupid muggle whiskey isn't nearly as strong as ours._ Harry turned away from the romantic scene bringing the bottle, once more, to his lips. _Love. Ha. Love breaks you, that's all love does. _By the time he arrived back at Grimmauld Place, dusk had fallen. He heaved a giant sigh when the door shut out the night.

That was Harry's routine for a week. Stay up while it was dark. Sleep half the day. Wander the neighborhood with the ever present bottle. Often he tortured himself by watching the kids play at the park, imagining what his and Ginny's kids would have looked like. Little raven haired girls and red haired boys giggling. Occasionally, he came upon a couple and watched as they hugged, or whispered to each other, picturing himself and Ginny doing that. When night threatened, he'd return home and drown his sorrows in his room. Each night, he'd pick up that shard of glass, caress it, test its sharp point and contemplate what it could do. Each morning, he'd fall asleep, bottle on the floor beside his bed, that sharp piece of glass in his hand.


	3. Only Emptiness Remains

_**Only emptiness remains, it replaces all, all the pain**_

By the end of the first week since the battle, Harry had become thoroughly entrenched in his addiction, for that's exactly what it was. He _needed_ the alcohol in order to sleep, in order to function on any kind of level, to be numb. Too long without it, he'd shiver and feel the torrent of his emotions as battle scenes flitted through his mind's eye. He didn't want to feel, didn't deserve to feel, so he drank until he didn't. This meant having to run to Gerry's often but Harry was determined to do whatever it took. He became a fixture at the park. He didn't bother anyone so they all left him alone, just gave him a wide berth. He never had a clue that he had been followed.

After purchasing two more bottles, Harry decided to walk around the commercial district to see what was around. He passed several sandwich shops, a home delivery laundry and ironing business, and an organic supermarket. Harry's face screwed up in disgust at the thought. As he walked he came upon a store selling fine chocolates. It reminded him of Honeydukes and Ron's and Ginny's love of chocolate so he quickly took another pull of whiskey to keep away any feelings, though he needn't have bothered. He was comfortably numb. The scents wafting from a bakery drew his attention. He hadn't been eating much, usually because the thought of food turned his stomach.

He took a quick glance in the large plate glass window, thought of going inside, but his stomach gave a nervous flip so he continued on. The idea of visiting a pub came to Harry so he began searching for one. The first one he found had the name Golden Lion. Harry rejected it. _It reminds me too much of Gryffindor._ The next one he found he rejected, as well. The Castle, as it was called, reminded him of Hogwarts. When Harry saw the name of the third one, he had to do a double take, rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing properly. Hogshead the name boldly proclaimed. Harry was tempted to just see what this version looked like on the inside until he remembered the first DA meeting and how several of those students were now dead. Quickly, he moved on.

During his wanderings, he passed several expensive looking hotels. Harry watched people hustle to and fro, oblivious to the war for freedom that had just ended. Odd looks were thrown his way occasionally, and he knew it. He probably did look strange to some people. One didn't often see a person his age carrying around a whiskey bottle, after all. Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't care about much at all. Whenever he caught a staring person's eye, he'd coldly grin, salute the person with his bottle and just keep going.

Feeling the slightest bit hungry, Harry stowed his bottle in his pocket, shrinking it just enough with his wand furtively. Inside was bright and cheery with earth tones on the walls with bits of color thrown in. Square tables with a chair to each side were scattered artfully around the place. Under the glass counter were displayed several loaves of bread towards the back and individual pastries near the front. Harry stood in the short line while he decided on what to get, completely aware of the sniffs of distaste coming from some of the patrons. To her credit, the young lady behind the counter treated Harry just as she had the previous customer. To Harry's mild surprise, she looked him in the eye unwaveringly.

"What can I get for you?"

"Um, I'll take a loaf of that," Harry pointed to a long baguette.

The brunette retrieved one of the loaves, slipped it into a long crinkly sack and handed it to him. Harry paid what was owed and left. Taking a quick look skyward, he headed for home. He tore off a chunk of bread and began nibbling. Ducking into an alley, out of sight of everyone, he shrank the loaf and stuffed it into his other pocket then pulled out the whiskey and enlarged it. He made it home just before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Feeling a bit nauseous, Harry binned the chunk he'd been nibbling, heading back to his room. Inside, he collapsed onto his bed, picked up the glass piece toyed with the tip. _It would be so easy. Who would care? Certainly not any of my so-called family or friends. I wish I had just died with Voldemort. Things would have been so much simpler. No one would have to pretend anything. Sirius said dying didn't hurt. My life has been one huge cosmic joke. Make me fulfill a prophecy I should never be able to survive and then actually do survive it, only to have a lifetime of nothing. Yep, one big joke. Someone's having a great laugh._

Even though he sat on his bed, staring at this clear piece of sharp glass and contemplating how things would have been if he hadn't survived the battle, Harry couldn't pull up any emotion over it. They'd been buried so deeply, it was as if he'd been Kissed. He waited out the night, slowly turning the shard over and over in one hand, a firm grip on the bottle with the other.

The following afternoon, Harry got up and made his normal trek around the neighborhood. On his way back, he stopped in the park and leaned against a tree, watching families play in the sand pit a short distance away. The bottle was halfway to his lips when he paused. In scanning the park around him, Harry's eyes had landed on a very familiar sight. The figure had spied him and was walking his way determinedly. Idly, Harry studied the tense carriage of the figure. _So, now it begins. Well, no matter. He can come, say his piece and be on his way._

"Hey, mate," Ron greeted Harry nervously. "It's been awhile. Everyone's worried about you and obviously with good reason. Look at you. You look worse than you ever did after coming back from those relatives of yours. Why don't you come home with me and let Mum fix you up?"

Harry narrowed his stare at his former best friend while taking a quick swallow. He watched as the hopeful expression on Ron's face fell into resignation. If he'd been able to feel anything at that moment, he would have felt some sort of perverse satisfaction. Harry continued to sit, allowing the silence to stretch onward.

Ron glanced at his friend's hard gaze and, sighing, sat down next to Harry. "You probably think you don't mean anything to us but you're wrong. As soon as we realized you weren't in the castle or on any of the grounds, we went to Kingsley. He's the new Minister, by the way. He said to let you have some time alone, to gather your thoughts. He said that if anyone deserved to have some time alone it was you. Mum argued with him, calling him names I never would have guessed she knew, saying being alone was the last thing you needed. He stood firm and Dad had to stun Mum. He kept her out of it for awhile saying it would help her get some perspective if some time had gone by before she'd been roused.."

Ron glanced at Harry's face to gauge his reaction to what had been said so far and was dismayed to find none. Harry wasn't even looking at him. Ron sighed, shook his head. He had to make Harry understand but he didn't know how.

"Then the reporter started following us around. They wouldn't leave us alone, kept asking questions about where you were, what you were doing. At that point, we didn't want to bring all of that down on you, so Dad made us all swear not to come looking for you. Maybe it was a good thing because some of old V-V-Riddle's left over crew came visiting us. They kept asking about you, too. Everyone's okay but the Burrow took some heavy damage and we've been trying to get it back into shape."

"You done?" Harry asked flatly. "Because if you are, you can go back to you life with your conscience clear." Another bit of whiskey passed Harry's lips.

"Don't you get it?" Ron asked, becoming angry. "Mum was in hysterics when she learned you weren't anywhere around and that no one knew where you'd gone. She's going spare not knowing how you're doing. And then there's Ginny. You're hurting her, Harry. In ways Riddle never could. You're crushing her and she still loves you."

"Don't _you_ get it?" Harry countered coldly. "I don't care. About anything and it feels good. I finally have some peace. I'm not going anywhere."

Harry stood and Ron followed suit. Just as Harry was about to take another drink, Ron's hand whipped out and impeded the bottle's progress.

"At what cost, Harry? What are you trying to do, kill yourself?"

Harry yanked his arm out of Ron's grasp and willfully took another drink. "If I wanted to do that," he said with cold satisfaction, "I have this nice shard of glass that's plenty sharp enough. I keep it by my bed, you see, and toy with it at night."

Harry smiled when Ron blanched but it was a smile of grim delight. "Leave me alone. It's a concept you should be familiar with. Tell everyone to just leave me alone."

Ron, stunned at Harry's words, let Harry walk away. _Surely he didn't mean it, did he? He wouldn't. We never should have listened to Kingsley. He's worse off than we feared. I'm going to need some help._ Ron stalked off, searching for a suitable place to apparate home. Neither teen was aware of the short little figure hiding in a nearby bush and neither saw it drop its head, shoulders slumped.

HHHHH

"So how was he?"

As soon as Ron entered the back door of the only home he'd ever known, Molly set upon him. Ginny, Percy, George, Charlie and Arthur were sitting at the table. Bill and Fleur were spending some time together. Ron looked at his Mum's hopeful face and clenched his jaw. He hated to be the one to report what they had known deep down.

"Not too good, Mum." He turned away from his Mum's crumpled and teary expression to his father. "Dad, can I talk to you a minute?"

"Sure, son."

The two headed out to Arthur's work shed. Ginny, needing to hear what was going on, followed. Ron saw her and motioned for her to join them. Once the three of them were safely inside the building, Arthur turned to his youngest son.

"How is he really?"

"Horrible, Dad. He doesn't look like he eats at all, he's cold and distant. Says he doesn't care about anything or anyone. Told him about the reporters, the attack and got no kind of emotional response. He asked me if I was done talking and told me to go live my life."

Arthur sighed heavily and glanced at Ginny. A tear ran down her cheek but she refused to cry. He got the impression that wasn't all and returned his attention to his son.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Ron swallowed painfully. "Yeah. He had this bottle. Whiskey of some kind, I think, from the smell of the stuff. Dad, that bottle was nearly empty and it wasn't a small bottle. He drank the stuff like it was pumpkin juice the few times I saw him take a drink."

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed at the ache behind them. Weasleys always took care of their own and right now, one of them was hurting tremendously. Something had to be done before he lost another son. He looked up when Ron shuffled his feet, dread filling him.

"Just say it, Ron. I find that's easier."

"Um. I asked Harry if he was trying to kill himself," he paused at Ginny's sharp inhale. "and he said that he kept a sharp piece of glass by his bed that he played with at night, said that it was good enough if he wanted to do it."

Ginny's hand flew to her mouth to stifle her cries. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned pleading eyes to her father.

"Daddy, we have to help him. Please. We can't just leave him like this."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he'd unknowingly picked up from his 'adopted' son. Sighing, he sat on a bench a moment as he thought of what could be done. Whatever they did, had to be done quickly, quietly so no one from the Prophet would hear. From the sounds of it, it also had to be done on the sly. Not even Harry could know.

"We'll get him home, sweetheart. Don't worry. And I think I know how."

HHHHH

Harry didn't leave the house for two days. He didn't feel like talking to anyone else and he was certain they wouldn't stop with Ron regardless of wanting to be left alone. The third afternoon found Harry in the park again, sitting with his back against a tree, legs out before him and crossed at the ankles, watching fathers and daughters play in the shallow waters of the paddling pool.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed Harry's arms and, before he could put up a struggle, he felt a familiar pull at his navel. As quick as it started, it was over and Harry pulled his arms away from his 'captors'. He stared at Bill and Charlie, anger in his gaze and in his stance. Harry looked around, recognizing the kitchen of Shell Cottage immediately.


	4. How Do I Feel This Good Sober?

_**I'm safe up high, nothing can touch me**_

_**How do I feel this good sober?**_

"I told Ron to tell you I wanted to be left alone," Harry said very deliberately.

"No can do, Potter," Charlie responded a bit cheekily. "See, Weasleys take care of each other and, like it or not, you're one of us."

"Besides," Bill put in, "someone here seems to think extremely high of you."

Ginny entered the room and started toward Harry as if she were approaching a wild animal. His physical appearance shocked her. Ron had warned them of how he looked but never in a million years could she imagine this. Death warmed over didn't even do it justice. She had to fight her entire family before they agreed to let her be a part of this so she masked her shock with a small smile.

"Hi, Harry. You look...well, horrid, honestly. Mum's itching to get her hands on you. She'll have her turn soon enough. First, we need to get you ready. We're here to help you."

"I don't _need_ your help nor do I _want_ it."

"That's where you're wrong, Harry," Bill spoke quietly. "You're slowly killing yourself. None of us are going to pretend to know what you've been going through," he paused at Harry's scornful laugh, "but we are all willing to listen. And before you even think about it, there's Anti-Apparition wards on the house and grounds, not to mention an Anti-Portkey ward. There's no Floo connection. No one gets in, no one gets out."

Harry looked around his feet for the bottle he'd dropped upon landing. He was sure it made the journey but he didn't see it anywhere.

"Looking for this?" Charlie asking, holding up the whiskey bottle. Making sure Harry was watching, Charlie poured the remaining contents down the drain before banishing the bottle. "No more of that."

Seething, his heart beginning to pound, Harry reached into his pocket for his wand. Yanking it out, he pointed it at Charlie. The silence was deafening but Charlie stood his ground, facing down the wand pointed at his throat, into the eyes of a kid who'd done more, seen more than any kid should.

"Do it, Harry," Charlie seemingly taunted, "I dare you. It's what you want, right?"

"Bring it back. Now."

"Harry, you know as well as I do that you can't conjure food and drink out of nothing. It's what's-his-name's Third Law. You have to have some around in order to conjure it. None of that is here."

Harry glanced briefly at Bill before turning back to Charlie. When he spoke, it was to Bill.

"Who are you to tell me where I can and cannot go? How dare any of you? You think you're so...so..."

Harry couldn't think. The tremors were back and it was obvious. His wand tip traced jerky circles in the air. Sweat began to bead at his temples, along his upper lip and on his palms, making his grip on his wand a bit slippery. With his free hand, he swiped at a rivulet of sweat as it started its trek down his face. The drum line of a marching band took up a pounding rhythm in his head. Closing his eyes for just a second to will away his headache, was all it took for Charlie to act.

As Harry's hand began to shake, Bill, Charlie and Ginny exchanged knowing glances. They watched as a few of the symptoms they'd been told to watch for manifested themselves. The instant Harry massaged his eyes in an effort to alleviate the pain, Charlie quickly reached out and slipped Harry's wand out of the trembling hand.

"Give it back."

"No, Harry. You're not going to be needing it. You're not going anywhere."

Harry looked around, found a glass on the counter and threw it across the room, missing Ginny by inches.

"I. Said. Give. It. Back. NOW!"

Harry screamed the last word in a voice filled with angry desperation. Looking around for something else, he missed Bill repairing the glass. Not one of the Weasleys flinched at Harry's yell or the flying glass. Chest heaving, pulse pounding in his ears, he searched for and found another glass. As soon as it hit the wall, Bill repaired it. The next thing Harry knew, a stack of plates and and several glasses sat waiting on the counter.

"Go ahead, Harry. Throw those, too."

Harry picked up a glass similar to the first one he'd broken at Grimmauld Place. His eyes narrowed, thinking about that shard that had been left beside his bed. Charlie spoke, drawing Harry's attention.

"Forget it, Harry. Ron told us what you said about that piece of glass you keep. These will break but will instantly repair themselves."

"You have no right to keep me here. I didn't ask for this."

"No, but you got it, anyway," Bill replied.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? I _like_ where I was. I had peace. Now let me have my wand so I can go home."

"I told you, you're not going anywhere. You didn't have real peace, Harry. It was an illusion."

"How would you know what I had?"

Harry was starting to really get angry. _Who the bloody hell were these people? What the hell did they know? _Between the headache, the shakes and the sweat that seemed to just pour from him, his temper exploded. Plate after plate and glass after glass hit the wall only to rewind like that Death Eater's head in that bell in the Time Room at the Department of Mysteries. Those memories angered Harry further and he screamed with each throw. Each one broke then reassembled themselves and fell into place next to Bill. Finally, the stack depleted, the glasses gone, Harry stonily stared at the three Weasleys.

"What are you feeling right now, Harry?" asked Bill in his annoyingly calm voice.

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, we do," Ginny spoke quietly, reassuringly. "That's why we're here, for you to talk to us so we can help you."

"Fine," he spat, sounding very much like Snape, "You really think you want to know? I hate you. I hate what you've done. I don't want to be here. I don't need you, any of you. You didn't bother to see me for an entire week and now you think you can waltz right in and tell me what to do? You can just piss off!"

Harry stalked out of the room and stomped up the stairs. Automatically, he headed for the room he'd had when he had been here last. The room looked different now. Anything that had been remotely breakable had been removed. Temper not yet abated, Harry glanced around the stark room. He walked to the window in an attempt to open it only to find a barrier in place. He couldn't touch it. Anger spiking, his hand balled into a tight fist and he punched the wall beside the window, with a resounding thump. Pain radiated up his arm in agonizing waves, blood ran from his split knuckles. The wall remained mockingly untouched. He suddenly understood how animals in cages felt. He hated being cooped up, a virtual prisoner, he wanted out and, yet, night had fallen and he wanted to stay inside, to keep the night and it's awful memories away. Alternately, he paced and sat on his bed as far from the dark sky as he could possibly get.

HHHH

Ginny felt the venom in Harry's words like a slap to her face. Her eyes threatened to tear but she fought it back. She was told Harry might say some things he didn't mean. She just hadn't been prepared for the reality, how cruel he would be. Swallowing with difficulty, she sought her brothers' eyes.

"Way to go, big bro," Charlie's voice filled with sarcasm.

"What? At least he's feeling something. It's a lot better than the cool detachment Ron mentioned."

"But hate and anger, Bill?" Ginny asked in a pleading tone.

Bill enveloped his sister in a giant hug. His hand moved up and down her back as she fought to control the sobs that fought to be let loose.

"I told you not to take anything he says right now seriously," he whispered comfortingly. "It's not really him talking. It's the alcohol. He'll get better. It's going to take time and a lot of love. This next week is going to be critical and we're likely going to be exhausted by the time we're done."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "He's worth it."

Bill was about to agree when a loud thump reached their ears. All three Weasleys winced at the sound.

"Looks like Harry found the charmed window," quipped Charlie.

"Maybe I should have added a barrier to the walls. That had to have hurt."

"Let me go to him, fix his hand," suggested Ginny. When both brothers looked as if they were going to suggest otherwise, she continued on. "He won't hurt me, not physically. It's just not in him."

Bill and Charlie looked to each other for guidance. After a minute, Charlie shrugged causing Bill to sigh.

"Okay, Gin, BUT no wand, and if, at any point, you don't feel comfortable with him, get up and leave. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Charlie handed Ginny a squat round jar with a pale green cream inside, some square gauze bandages that had little sticky strips along the edges to keep them in place and a wet cleaning cloth. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she took a moment to steel herself, took a deep breath then continued on. She knocked lightly on the door before opening it.

Harry paced the confines of the room looking, for all the world, like a tiger in a zoo picture she once saw. His cold green eyes watched every move she made as she entered the room and gently closed the door. Regardless of what he had said and how he'd acted, she knew he would never hurt her. To prove it, she turned her back to him while readying the bandage and cream. Facing Harry, she picked up the wet cloth.

"Let me fix your hand," she said compassionately, eyes never leaving his. "The blood needs to be cleaned up. The cream will help close the skin and the bandage will keep out the dirt."

When Harry remained silent, she continued, "Or if you prefer, you can do it yourself. I don't have my wand on me so this is as good as it gets."

Harry held out his good hand, indicating he'd do it himself. Sighing, Ginny handed over the cloth first and watched as he cleaned his hand. Not once did she see him wince in pain. That fact disturbed her and she wondered just how numb he'd gotten. They were all in for a rough time in the next few days. Done with the cloth, Ginny took it back, handing over the cream. Again, no visible reaction as he spread the cold cream over the split skin. Lastly, she gave him the readied bandage.

With his injury tended to, she sat on the bed and watched him, head tilted slightly to the side. The silence must have gotten to Harry for one word burst out of him.

"What?"

"He's still in there, you know."

Harry stared at Ginny as if she'd said she was in love with a flobberworm. He had no clue what she was talking about.

"The old Harry is still in there. I can see him. He desperately wants out but he's lost his way."

Harry sneered at that thought. "Sorry to disappoint you but this is me, now. The 'old Harry' was a naïve twit and he's gone. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

Nodding resignedly, Ginny gathered her supplies and walked out the door. When she entered the kitchen, Bill and Charlie looked up, asking with their eyes how it had gone.

"I'm in one piece, aren't I?" she asked tiredly. "He insisted on doing it himself. Bill, he acted like it didn't even hurt. I cringed with every swipe of the rag but he didn't react at all."

Bill nodded. "That would likely be the whiskey. He probably still has enough in his system to numb physical pain. He'll be feeling it soon enough, though. From what I've read, it's not going to be pleasant. I really wish I could spare him what's coming but it 's high time. It's the only way he can heal and move on."

Bill yawned and Charlie stood up. "Why don't you two get some sleep? I'll take the first watch."

After putting away the supplies, Ginny turned to her brother. "I wish we could give him a dreamless sleep potion."

"You know as well as I do how dangerous that could be," Bill responded softly. "While his body is adjusting to being without the whiskey, it's dangerous to give him _any_ potions. Besides, he could easily form an addiction to it and then we'd be right back where we started."

"I know. I've read the list of symptoms he's going to be having and I just wish we could lessen it somehow."

Charlie wrapped his sister into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I know but it'll work out. You'll see."

Swiping at the moisture in her eyes, she nodded. After bidding them good night, she made her way to her room, changed into her pajamas and slowly drifted off to sleep. Bill went out to double check the wards before heading to bed himself. Charlie waited to give the drowsiness charm some time to work before he tried creeping into Harry's room.

Harry sat on his bed, back propped against the wall. When he began to feel drowsy, he started to wonder if he'd been slipped a sleep potion only to remember he hadn't been given any potions, only the salve. _A Drowsiness Charm must have been added to the salve. Should have known not to trust them. I don't want to sleep. I'll only see it all again. I don't think I can take it._

Eventually, the charm got the better of him and Harry slipped off into sleep. The charm was strong enough to induce sleep but not so strong as to keep a person from dreaming. And dream Harry did.

_Lily, it's him. Take Harry and go! I'll try to hold him off. _It was like he was in a pensieve. He stood and watched as the door burst inward off its hinges. A flash of green light and his father crumpled to the floor. The real Harry whimpered, seeing his father struck down so brutally, hurt. In the dream, Voldemort appeared through the doorway and wandered up the stairs towards his prey. Harry stood in his nursery room and watched as his mum gently placed him in his crib, tears chasing each other down her cheeks.

_Harry, we love you. We tried. Please don't be angry with us._

Voldemort sneered at the emotional display before him. _Such pathetic drivel. Move out my way, it's not you I'm after._

"No," Harry begged. "No, please."

_Please don't take Harry. He's just a baby. He's nothing to you._ Lily stood her ground, blocking baby Harry from view. Grown Harry stood off to the side, watching, knowing what was coming but unable to look away.

_I said move out of the way, silly girl. Move, or I'll move you._

_No, please, not Harry. Please. _Lily refused to leave her son.

_Fine. You've obviously made your choice. AVADA KEDAVRA!_

_HARRY! _The green of the spell flashed striking down Lily Potter.

"NO! MUM! NO!" Harry called out in anguish, unaware he was calling out in his sleep. He ran towards her in a futile attempt to catch her as she fell.

Charlie startled awake and immediately reached for Harry, dodging the young man's flailing arms. Charlie gripped Harry's shoulders and shook him with care, but with decisiveness.

"Harry. Harry, wake up. It's just a dream, that's all."

"NO! MUM! DAD! PLEASE! NO!"

The bedroom door flew open admitting Bill and Ginny. Bill held down Harry's kicking legs as Ginny crawled right up next to Harry on the bed, brushing by Charlie. Kneeling next to him, she cupped Harry's face in an attempt to still its side to side motion.

"Harry," she spoke softly. "Harry, it's okay. You're okay. You're dreaming, Harry. You need to wake up."

"NO. Please don't take them. Don't take them from me, _please. Mum. Dad._"

Ginny turned to her brothers for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Harry was obviously tightly bound in his nightmare. She watched Bill struggle to keep Harry's legs from hurting himself or anyone else. Charlie had the same problems in his attempt to hold still Harry's arms. Wetness on her hands brought her attention back to Harry. Tears streamed from eyes still clamped shut, tears he likely had no idea he was shedding. Ginny briefly wondered if he'd ever really mourned the loss of his parents. She seriously doubted it.

An idea came to her and, after a quick glance at her brothers, she went with it. Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips to Harry's. The briefest of moments passed before his lips responded...for all of a few seconds, before he pushed her away from him, now wide awake.

"Get off me," he directed hoarsely to Bill and Charlie.

As soon as the two Weasleys let him go, Harry scooted back to the wall. With violently shaking hands, he grabbed his glasses and slipped them on. He met three sets of eyes with a stony glare, trying to ignore his tremors and his sweat soaked clothes.

"You were having a nightmare. We were only trying to wake you."

Disgusted at his weakness, Harry swiped his face clean. "Nightmares are nothing out of the ordinary for me. This is why I don't sleep at night. I need a drink. _Please. _I'm _begging_ you."

"Sorry, Harry," Bill responded. "The only thing you can have is water."

"I don't _want_ water. I _need _a drink. Look at me!" Harry held out his shaking limbs for them to see. "I'm a nightmare, a disaster. A little drink is all I need, to take the edge off."

"You need water, Harry," Charlie spoke up, "and that's all you're getting to drink for a while."

Harry turned glittering eyes to Ginny, pleading his case silently, hoping she'd be a softer touch than her brothers. Her features hardened into one of pure stubbornness and Harry knew, even before she spoke, that she was going against him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she looked at him, regretfully, "but we just can't."

With a yell of frustration, he drew his knees up to his chest and did his best to ignore them. Before he could sink too far, however, Bill spoke in his annoyingly calm voice.

"Talk to us, Harry. We're here to help."

"I don't _want_ your help. I didn't ask for it."

Ignoring Harry's insolence, Ginny tried another tactic. "You were screaming for your Mum and Dad. You were dreaming of when they died, weren't you?"

To his utter annoyance, he felt his eyes tear up again. His inhale sounded dangerously close to a sniff. He clenched his jaw to battle the need to let go but he found the more he fought, the less control he had. Within seconds, tears made watery tracks down his face again. He felt his lip tremble and hardened his mouth but it only made it worse. Sorrow rose within him and demanded release. When Ginny took him in her arms, he broke, sob after gut wrenching sob tore through the barrier Harry, through the whiskey, had erected around his heart. Bill and Charlie slipped out of the room.

In the kitchen, Bill put together a tray with tea for himself, Charlie and Ginny. He added ice water for Harry.

"I can't believe we never bothered to check," Charlie said, voice heavy. "It's no wonder everything's affected him the way it has. He hasn't even mourned his Mum and Dad."

"From what I understand of his relatives, he never had the chance to. Then, every school year brought its own problems."

"I hope this is a sign. Don't get me wrong, I'm not so naïve to think everything has been solved but..."

Bill sighed, "He's still got a long way to go, but yeah, I think this is a good sign. Learning to deal with all those emotions is going to be hard on him but he's taking a step in the right direction."

Up in the bedroom, Harry finally cried himself out. Completely worn out, he fell asleep on Ginny's shoulder. Gently, she shifted him so he was lying on the bed then covered him with a light blanket. For a little while, she watched him sleep. To her, he seemed deathly pale, the tear tracks and redness around his eyes standing out in stark contrast. It had been heart rending to listen to his nightmare and subsequent tears. One thing gave her hope, however. In the instant before he'd awakened, he'd responded to her kiss.

The bedroom door opened and Bill peeked in. At her nod, he entered the room. He glanced between Harry's sleeping form and his sister. Already, she appeared worn out and things were only getting started. For a brief moment, he wondered if it had been the right decision to let Ginny come along. He gave a halfhearted snort at the thought. Dementors wouldn't have kept Ginny away.

"How's he doing?"

"Asleep for now. We'll see how long it lasts."

"Just so you're prepared, in the light of day, he may be more like he was earlier. Mood swings and a volatile temper are common symptoms for the first day or two, at least."

Ginny nodded watching Harry sleep peacefully. It hurt to see him in this state. _How could I have missed it? How could I have not known about this? I've always prided myself on my ability to read him and, yet, I never knew he'd never mourned his parents. What kind of girlfriend does that make me?_

Tears began forming in her eyes and she angrily swiped at them.

"Gin, stop," Bill stated firmly. He lifted her Ginny so she had to look into his eyes. "Don't start blaming yourself. That's a Harry-ish thing to do and we're trying to break him of that, remember? Harry learned, from the time he was young, to keep his emotions hidden. If he didn't want anyone to see them, then we didn't."

"But Bill, I've always been able to read him better than Ron or Hermione. I could always tell what he was thinking when they couldn't. For some reason, I just didn't see this."

"You always understood him better, true. It's why you're so good for him. You know exactly what he needs and gives it to him. That doesn't, however, make you Trelawney. You're not a Seer. His parents' deaths were so long ago, we _all_ had assumed he'd dealt with it. As I said, he's become a master at hiding his feelings. I know you two dated in his sixth year. From the stories I've heard, he loves you, Sis. Don't think I didn't notice how he responded to your kiss before he came fully awake. It's going to be rough but the payoff will be worth it."

"I know," she inhaled, shakily. "I'll take the next watch."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I am now, Bill. Thanks."

"If you need anything, holler."

"Night, Bill."

"Night."

Ginny settled into the chair Charlie had been lounging in. Her eyes drifted shut just as Harry began dreaming again. Ginny's eyes snapped open and she leaped out of her chair. An instant later, she lay down beside him, clutching him to her with one arm, whispering soothing words in his ear, as she stroked his hair with her free hand. After a few well-placed hits and kicks, Ginny felt bruised but she'd managed to keep the nightmare from becoming full-blown.

A few hours later, her shoulder being shook, woke her. Bill stood over her, smirking at her choice of sleeping spots.

"What?" she asked, grumpily. "He started having another nightmare so I did what I thought would help and it did."

"Go get some more sleep. It's still fairly early. I'll finish out the night."

Yawning, Ginny gave a final searching look at Harry's sleeping form before disappearing to her room.

Harry woke to the sunlight spilling in his window. Turning away from its brightness, he moaned as a drum beat a booming rhythm in his head. He thought for sure his head was going to explode. Without jostling too much, he reached out for his bottle. He found his glasses but no bottle. That's when the previous evening came back to him. _Damn those interfering Weasleys! Damn them for putting him through this!_

Gingerly sitting up, his stomach lurched threateningly. He paused, breathing slowly and deeply, swallowing down the bile that crept slowly upward. His hands began to dance to the pounding rhythm in his head. Sweat beaded his forehead, temples and upper lip. Stomach giving another dangerous lurch, he fervently hoped he remembered where the loo was. Heart now pounding in tandem with his head, his breathing suffered, becoming erratic. He kept swallowing against the waves of nausea crashing over him. So intent on his immediate objective, he failed to note the approaching footsteps.

The door opened to reveal Charlie carrying a tray with a glass of ice water and a steaming bowl of chicken broth. The instant the mild aroma hit his nostrils, Harry's battle was over and he'd lost. He shot off the bed, fell to his knees before a rubbish bin just as his stomach erupted. His stomach heaved until his muscles cramped and then it heaved some more. Problem was, there wasn't that much to rid itself of with Harry not having eaten much of anything.

As he suffered through his ordeal, he became vaguely aware of a presence right behind him, a cool flannel pressed against his forehead, the hand holding the flannel effectively holding his head, a supporting hand on his shoulder. Harry found himself temporarily glad for it, for he was too weak to hold his head up any longer.

When Harry's stomach had decided it was done, the bin was cleaned. Harry felt someone wrap an arm around his chest and haul him up. He tried to stand but he shook so bad he felt as if he'd been hit by a Jelly-Legs Jinx. A second later, Harry sat, trembling, sweating, and hurting, on his bed.

"Here, clean your face up."

Charlie held out the flannel. He waited as Harry wiped his face, holding its coolness against his eyes a moment before blowing his nose. Done with that, Charlie took back the flannel and held out the water glass. Harry eyed it warily, and Charlie sighed.

"It's just water, Potter. It'll clean the taste out of your mouth and soothe what I'm assuming to be a very raw throat."

Still not looking at the Weasley male, Harry took the glass and brought it to his lips, the ice clinking madly in his shaking hand. He took a tiny sip and waited. For the moment, the volcano that was his stomach was content and he took a bigger sip. At first, swallowing was painful but the more sips he took, the more the icy wetness extinguished the fire in his throat.

The other man sighed again, finally drawing Harry's gaze for a second. "I don't suppose I can convince you to have some of this broth."

Harry felt his stomach start to smolder and shuddered, wincing again at his headache. Just the thought of food, any kind of food, made him ill. He cupped the glass, heart and head pounding, hands trembling, body sweating, breathing unsteadily.

"Yeah, didn't really think so."

Leaving the tray where it sat, Charlie gripped Harry's upper arm. "Let's go downstairs. You look awful. Some sunshine and fresh sea air is just what you need."

Harry wanted to protest, to say that he got enough sunshine through his window, but he was too weak to argue. One step at a time, they managed the stairs and Charlie led him out the back door to an outdoors chaise lounger. Harry fell into it and Charlie grinned slightly.

"There. That should do the trick. Remember, there are wards in place to keep you from Apparating or creating a Portkey, so don't even try it."

Harry's narrowed stony gaze met Charlie's determined one. Harry hated being manhandled and, if he'd felt stronger, he'd have challenged Charlie's audacity. However, he didn't, so he was forced to lie there, the ocean stretching out before him, a warm breeze flitting through his hair.

_How does the sun keep shining? How is it fair that I get to keep seeing the sun when so many others don't?_ That thought evoked images in his head of the battle. Suddenly filled with energy, Harry got up and stalked toward one of the cliffs he'd sat upon when he'd been here last. _Has it only been a few months? Seems like it's been years. So much has changed. There'd been so much hope then._

Abruptly, something stopped Harry from reaching the cliff. Realization dawned and fury whipped through him. Fists clenched, he turned from the protective ward and began kicking every rock he could find. Each tumbling rock reminded him of the debris falling from the castle. He walked faster, trying not to succumb to the images playing like a film in his head.

_Harry watched as a sickly green light hit his beloved friend. "Hedwig! No!" He watched the cage fall, tumbling end over end. A vice had a grip on his heart and squeezed for all it was worth. "She didn't deserve to die. Why did she have to die? "Oh, Hedwig, I'm so sorry."_

_He stood in the Burrow's sitting room and felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under him. _

"_Moody's dead?" He thought of the grizzled, paranoid ex-Auror. How could he be dead? He was too tough to die._

Harry ran from the memories plaguing him but they stubbornly refused to go away. After having bounced off the ward walls twice, he began doing laps. After countless trips around the property, he came to rest on a little grassy knoll. A large stone marker sat at one end. Recognizing Dobby's grave, Harry collapsed to his knees, his hand gently traced the letters on the stone.

"It's all my fault," he rasped. "You came to rescue me and look what you got for it. You should have just stayed away. You'd still be alive if you'd just stayed away."

Tears welled in his eyes, anguish bubbled forth, as he leaned over, resting his head on the cold stone.

"Why couldn't everyone just stay away?"


	5. The Pain of the Mind

The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body.

--Publilius Syrus

Ginny watched Harry run as if the demons of Hell were after him. In a way, she guessed, they likely were. It hurt so much to see him this way. She desperately wanted to go to him. She watched as he bounced his way around the bordering ward Bill and Charlie had placed. After the second bounce, he stumbled and hit the ground rather hard.

"He's going to hurt himself, Bill. I have to do something."

Bill stood in the kitchen, just behind Ginny, also watching the scene unfolding outside. It was lunchtime and he'd just finished putting food on the table.

"He's not going to hurt himself, Gin. Those wards were reinforced with a cushioning charm. You go out there now, he's going to reject you. He'll say something cruel and hurt you."

Brother and sister watched Harry collapse at Dobby's grave, the young man's shoulders shaking horribly as he bent over the white stone.

"I don't care what he says to me," Ginny said in a husky voice. She made for the door but Charlie, who had just entered the kitchen from the sitting area, waved his wand to shut the kitchen's back door.

"If he's going to have any chance at healing, he needs to allow himself to feel, the bad along with the good."

"That doesn't mean he has to be alone," she argued, stubbornly.

"Yes, I'm afraid it does, Sis," Bill sighed. "Harry would never let anyone see him in what he'd call a weak moment. If you went out there now, he'd suck all that crap back inside himself where it would fester and make him physically sick, as well. We'd be back at square one."

"Oh, sure," she snorted, "like we've gotten really far."

Bill placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Charlie stood on Ginny's other side, placing his hand on her other shoulder. Quietly, Bill spoke.

"Hard as it is to see, he's doing himself some good. It's crucial he makes the first move, Gin. He'd be reaching out, asking for help and we have to be there when he does."

Ginny nodded mutely, a tear trickling down her cheek. She sniffled. Both men turned at the sound and enfolded her in a warm embrace. Both had always felt a bit protective when it came to Ginny. Their instincts had always been to keep her from the bad parts of life but they'd let her experience enough to nurture her independence. At that moment, both would have given anything to spare her from the pain she felt. Either man would have gladly given up his life if it had meant Harry would have been spared the misery of a life pushing him toward one objective, only to leave him floundering when that objective had been accomplished.

For several quiet moments, the trio stood, sniffling the only sounds heard. Ginny pulled back, swiping at her tears as her brothers did the same. She turned and looked at the table behind her, forgotten in the emotional upheaval of the moment.

"Well, let's not let Bill's cooking go to waste. Let's see how much influence Fleur has had on him, shall we?"

Her attempt at brevity worked to a small degree and the trio sat, forcing themselves to eat something.

Hghghghg

Harry had no idea how long he'd been hunched over Dobby's headstone. From the cramping in his back and knees, he'd guess for some time. Slowly, he sat up. Lethargy had stolen over him. His arms felt so heavy, his eyelids, too. Stumbling to his feet, he forced one foot in front of the other. Briefly, he contemplated going up to his room but didn't think he could make it that far and wanted nothing to do with the three people inside, so he plopped onto the lounger, curled into a tight ball and fell asleep. He slept, and dreamed.

As often happens when one dreams of horrific experiences, the sequence of the events were out of order and skewed. First, he saw Dobby, whose tennis ball-sized eyes weren't wide and filled with adoration but condemnation.

"_Dobby was wrong about Harry Potter! Harry Potter was not a great wizard. No! Harry Potter let me die and many, many others die, too! Harry Potter is a bad, bad wizard!"_

"Sorry, Dobby," slurred Harry. "Didn't mean to."

"_What have I always preached, boy? CONSTANT VIGILANCE! But were you? No! If you had been, people would still be alive. People who deserved to be alive would be!"_

"Moody, I tried," Harry pleaded. "I worked as hard as I could."

"_Harry, how could you let us die? We'd just had Teddy. He needs us and because of you, we can't be there. I take it back. I don't want you to be his godfather. He's better off without you. I don't want you anywhere near him."_

"Remus, Tonks, no, please. I'm sorry. I never meant for you to die."

"_Harry, I take back every time I ever said you were anything like James. You're nothing like him."_

"Sirius, I-"

"_Harry, we had such high hopes for you. You let your mother and me down. You were supposed to SAVE the world, not let so many die. And my friends, Harry. How could you let that happen? We're so disappointed in you."_

"Dad, Mum, I'm sorry. I didn't want them to die. I worked as fast as I could."

"_One little task, Harry. Just one. I gave you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger one simple little task. Apparently, I was asking too much of you. Expecting it to be accomplished in a timely fashion was more than you could handle."_

"Professor, I tried. I really did."

"_And you failed. No surprise, really. All those times in my class you failed to produce even the simplest of potions. Should have known you'd fail at this task, too."_

"No, Professor Snape, I-"

_The faces of his tormentors closed in on him, all scolding him at once. Harry turned away from one face, only to be confronted by another. His heart began to jump, his breathing became heavy, his head throbbed in time to his heart._

"No. No. No. Go away. Leave me alone. Please leave me alone."

"HARRY!"

Harry started awake at the harsh call and jarring of his shoulder. He looked up into Charlie's grim face.

"Harry, come on. It's time for supper and you need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Harry replied coldly.

"I didn't ask if you were," Charlie returned the tone. "You're going to eat something even if I have to force it down your throat."

Harry licked his lips. His mouth seemed cottony. His body begged for one thing. He could almost taste it.

"I need a drink." He put on what he thought passed for a friendly smile. "Come on, Charlie, what do you say? Just one small one?"

Charlie's response to that was to haul Harry to his feet and push him slightly towards the back door.

"Hey!" Harry's faux friendly smile turned into an adversarial frown. "You don't have to get rough. Don't put your hands on me again."

The two silently entered the kitchen. Harry refused to look at anyone or even to speak. He half-halfheartedly fixed a plate, serving up a tiny portion of the things within his reach. Mostly, he pushed the food around on his plate. His stomach protested just the idea of food. When Charlie stood and started to reach over to him, Harry hastily ingested a couple bites. He immediately wished he hadn't.

Charlie watched as Harry picked at his food. Figuring a little reminder of his earlier threat was in order, he stood. He nearly smiled when Harry shoveled in two forkfuls of food. As he watched, Harry's face went pale then decidedly green. Having known this was likely, Charlie was ready. He rushed to Harry, conjured a rubbish bin and helped the kid outside for a modicum of privacy.

Afterward, Charlie vanished the bin entirely. The back door opened and a cool flannel and glass of water appeared. He took them and passed them to Harry.

"Happy now?" Harry asked bitterly. "You see what I've become?" He unknowingly echoed words Riddle had once said to him. "I can't even keep two bites down. I _need _a drink."

"What you _need_ is some solid food. Keep trying. Your system may not be used to it now, but it won't take long."

"What if I don't want to keep trying? Who asked you anyway?"

"Oh, you're going to keep trying. You see, there's a young lady inside who deserves all the happiness in this world, happiness only you can give her." Harry derisively laughed at the thought of happiness. "And there's a young man out here who deserves to have that same happiness, something he's had only once before in his life, I think."

Harry shakily moved around Ginny's brother, entered the house and headed straight to his room without a glance or a word to anyone.

Hghg

"NO! YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'RE DEAD! I KNOW YOU ARE! YOU HAVE TO BE!"

Three doors slammed open and footsteps thumped down the hall to Harry's room. His door flew inward and three Weasleys spilled into the room, Bill followed by Charlie then Ginny. Harry sat huddled into the corner of the wall on his bed, staring wild-eyed at something to his left.

"YOU'RE NOT ALIVE ANYMORE! I KILLED YOU! I KILLED YOU ! NOW GO AWAY!"

"Nightmare?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"No, worse," came the terse reply from Bill. "We've entered the hallucination phase."

"Get off! Get off, get off, get off," Harry moaned, swiping at invisible objects on his arms and legs.

For the first time since they'd entered his room, Harry acknowledged their presence. He looked right at them then behind them, his eyes rounding in horror.

"Nagini!" Harry scrambled out of bed, looking for his wand. "Where's my wand?" Back at the Weasleys he yelled, gesticulating wildly, "Get out of the way! Can't you see her? She's right there! I don't have my wand. DO SOMETHING!"

"Harry," Bill spoke calmly, reassuringly, "Harry, there's nothing there. You're seeing things."

"How can you not see her? She's RIGHT THERE! Do you want to end up bitten like your Dad? Nothing can stop the bleeding from her bites, remember?"

"Harry," this from Charlie, "Dad's okay. Thanks to you, we got to him in time."

"No, that's all wrong. He should have died. He was supposed to die."

The trio of redheads flinched at the vehemence in Harry's voice.

"That's what happens to everyone who hangs around with me. They die and leave me alone."

Harry sat back on the bed in dejection.

"You're not alone, Harry," Ginny whispered softly, "not anymore."

Harry recoiled at something on the bed only he could see. He raked his arms across the space in front of him, continuously. He started kicking, as if keeping something back.

"It won't go away," he moaned, "There's too much. I've never seen so much. Oh, God, snakes. Spiders. Stay back!"

Harry stopped kicking after a couple minutes and stared at his hands, palms up. He looked as if he was going to be sick. He rubbed his hands on his shirt, his sleeves, the blankets, everywhere. At first, his motions were slow but with each perceived failed attempt to clean his hands, his movements became frantic.

"It's not coming off. Help me get it off,"

"Get what off, Harry?" Bill asked.

Harry turned his hands up for all of them to see. His eyes begged them for help.

"The blood. It's everywhere and I can't get it off."

Ginny gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. She pressed her lips together in an effort not to cry, though tears escaped her eyes. Charlie gulped but stared resolutely at Harry. Silently, Bill was kicking himself. He should have known Harry's guilt would manifest itself in this way. The Healer he'd spoken to had told him to be prepared, to try to imagine the things Harry might 'see'.

"It's okay, Harry," Bill practically crooned, "I'll take care of it."

Bill waved his wand and cast a very temporary glamour charm at the bed and at Harry.

"See, it's gone, now." Bill conjured a steaming cup of chamomile tea. "Here, drink this. It'll help you sleep."

Like a trusting child, Harry took the cup Bill held out, cupping his hands around its warmth and sipped the tea. Halfway through the tea, Harry yawned. He rubbed one eye vigorously.

"Here, let me take that cup for you."

Bill still spoke softly, as if speaking to a distressed child. And indeed, that was how Harry seemed to be acting. Like a young child who'd had a bad dream and needed the comfort of his loved ones. As Harry lay back down, Bill tucked the blankets around him, singing quietly the lullaby Molly sang to all her kids in times of distress. Harry yawned again, rolled to his side and slept.

Ginny, Charlie, and Bill tip-toed out the door and down the stairs. This time Charlie set about making tea, while Bill and Ginny sat at the table.

"Well, that was interesting," Charlie noted, bringing the tea to the table.

Bill snorted, "Which part?"

"The way he acted before he fell asleep," Ginny answered quietly, "It was so...childlike."

"Yeah, compared to how that all started."

"It was something else the Healer had told me about. I had told him that the person who was sick had been an orphan and never knew a loving hand. He told me that Harry, though he didn't know it was Harry, might regress at some point to a child-like state, temporarily. He said that if that happens, to give him what he'd missed and needed at the moment."

"In other words, act like his mum or dad," Charlie clarified.

"It's only temporary, right?"

"Yes, Sis, it's only temporary. By morning, he'll likely not even remember anything that happened and be back to his old unforgiving self."

A look of determination crossed her features. "Whatever it takes."

The three traded glances and the men answered simultaneously, "Agreed."


	6. Greater Love, Greater Pain

_**The greater your capacity to love,**_

_**the greater your capacity to feel the pain.**_

The remaining bit of night was punctuated with Harry's nightmares and hallucinations. More often than not, they centered on the deaths of those closest to him. By morning, he'd practically rubbed his hands raw in his attempts to clear the blood away. Three very tired Weasleys greeted the rising sun the following morning. Bill set out cereal, milk, toast, and juice. He wearily plopped into a nearby chair and rested his head on the table. Charlie and Ginny also sat at the table but were in a lethargic stupor. Harry, finally, was resting peacefully.

"How much longer, Bill?" asked a very raw sounding Ginny.

"Shouldn't be much longer," came the muffled reply. He had yet to lift his head from the table.

Charlie rubbed his gritty eyes before running a hand down his face. He yawned hugely before pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Setting the box down, he stared at his bowl as if trying to remember what came next. He loved Harry dearly but he was beginning to feel a bit annoyed at the young man. He knew it was irrational but it was there regardless. Harry was totally unaware of what he was putting everyone through and Charlie would almost have given anything to be so ignorant.

"How many more steps are there before he's totally clean?" Charlie asked around a spoonful of dry cereal. He'd decided lifting the pitcher of milk was too much work.

Bill finally lifted his head. "Just one. Fever. That can come at any time. We should also expect it to be the worst. More than likely he'll continue the hallucinations through the fevers. There's no telling what he'll say. Merlin knows, he's got a lifetime of bad stuff to rant about."

After eating only a few bites of breakfast, the three shuffled into the sitting room and collapsed into various chairs, curled up and let exhaustion take over. They were blessed with three solid hours of sleep before Harry's raw cries stirred them. Adrenaline kicking in, the three bounded into Harry's room.

Harry lay in bed, eyes open, limbs thrashing. His complexion, though overall was very pale, it contained a ruddiness about his cheeks. He was also drenched in sweat.

"NO! I won't join you! I won't! You lie!" To himself he muttered, "I can't let him get it. I can't let him have it. If he gets it, he'll come back. I can't let him! I can't...let..."

Bill conjured a damp cloth and began wiping Harry's face, neck and upper chest. He turned to the other two, confirming their thoughts.

"Welcome to the final phase."

Harry shuddered violently. "What _was_ that thing? It was huge! Three heads? What in Merlin's name are they doing with something like that at school?"

"First year," Ginny whispered. Bill and Charlie turned to their sister in confusion. "He's remembering his and Ron's first year. Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy, was guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came across Fluffy one night."

"I have to lie," Harry muttered. "I can't tell him. Maybe someone will come soon."

One of Harry's hands dropped to where a trouser pocket would have been. He continued to mutter.

"How did I get it? He can't know. I have to protect it. I have to keep it from him. I have to. There's no one else."

Harry's hands grabbed Bill's arm but let go as if he'd been burned. Harry stared horrified at them.

"Oh, God, what have I done? What did I do? I didn't mean to hurt him. I just wanted to stop him."

Tears freely ran in rivers down Harry's hollowed cheeks. His whole body shook with his sobs.

"I just wanted to stop him."

Bill, Charlie, and Ginny all exchanged watery glances. Harry had never spoken of what had transpired down in that room with Quirrell. That he did so now made them uneasy as to what else they were likely going to hear.

Ginny quickly conjured a glass of cool water and sat on the bed next to Harry. One hand skimmed through his damp hair.

"Here, Harry, have a drink of water. It'll make you feel better."

Harry sat up and shakily took the glass but didn't drink right away. The tears were falling and he couldn't seem to stop them. His eyes, bright with fever, implored her to understand.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know that would happen, I swear."

Ginny caressed his burning face. "I know, Harry. I know you didn't. Now have some water."

With a little coaxing, Harry took a few sips of water. Ginny took the glass when he'd finished and set it on the night stand. Silently, she took the cloth from Bill and began wiping down what she could reach of Harry's back. She felt his head droop onto her shoulder and exchanged glances with her brothers. Nodding, the two men silently walked out the door.

Shortly after that, Harry fell asleep. Ginny lay Harry back and studied him. A wave of her wand made his shirt disappear. _He's so thin. How he survived this past year, I'll never know. _Gently, she caressed the round burn mark right over his heart. _Wonder how he got this one. I hope he tells me someday. He's gotten so many new scars._ She caressed each one as she bathed his torso. On his right arm, she came across two more scars. One was just barely visible; one had to look closely and know what to look for in order to see it. It was high on the inside of his forearm, by his elbow. _That one's from the Chamber. The basilisk. _

The other scar on that arm caught her attention. This one was much more visible. It was long and reached from the inside of Harry's wrist to mid-arm. It wasn't a new one and she was puzzled a moment. _Oh, this must be from V-Voldemort's return. I remember when they said Harry's blood had been taken for that ritual._ Her heart hurt at all the pain he'd been forced to endure.

Quickly, she transfigured Harry's pajama bottoms into swim trunks and bathed his legs, noting the small scars, nicks, and cuts as she went. Having finally bathed him down, she lightly covered him again and hoped he'd sleep awhile.

Two hours later, Harry was awake and reliving the Chamber memory. For Ginny, it was doubly heartbreaking to hear. She listened as he begged her to still be alive, his conversation with Tom, and his desperate thoughts as he ran from the basilisk.

"I'm so scared. What if I can't do it? It's right behind me! I'm not going to make it! There's no where to hide! Oh, man, I can't believe that actually worked. Oh, Ginny, you're so cold. Please don't die. Please don't die on me. Hang in there, I'm trying."

When Harry began slashing his arm back and forth, she could guess what was happening. With a grunt of effort, he shoved the memory sword forward. He grabbed his arm in a hiss of pain in the exact place of the faint scar Ginny had seen earlier. Hunched over, he began mumbling again, presumably to Riddle. His hand suddenly made a stabbing motion.

"You can't have her," he whispered. "I won't let you win."

_That was the moment I woke up. I remember that. Oh, Harry, I came so close to losing you, you noble git. Even then you were willing to risk your life for someone else. _For the hundredth time it seemed, tears fell from her eyes. She remembered well what Harry had said to her and she whispered them now to him as he said them to her memory.

"It's okay, now. It's just a memory."

On and on it went that day with Ginny by Harry's side, washing him down and listening as he 'confessed' his deepest secrets and thoughts. How he and Hermione had rescued Sirius came tumbling from within him. How Harry had managed to fend off all those dementors and how he'd thought it had been his dad. For the first time, she learned how dementors truly affected him.

"No," he begged, covering his ears. "Make it stop. Please make it stop. I don't want to hear them anymore. I'm tired of hearing them die, over and over again."

Harry's demeanor immediately changed to one of aggression as he stared over Ginny's shoulder and yelled.

"Who got the last laugh, though, you bloody bastard!" He laughed a bit wildly. "I did! Not laughing now, are you?"

One or the other Weasley brother would bring food and drink for Ginny, offer to sit with him to give her time alone and while she accepted the nourishment, she declined their offers. She'd rest as he did. She got to where she worked on automatic pilot. Sleep, bathe him down, help him drink some water, eat her own meals, sleep some more.

She also heard more than she'd ever heard from Harry regarding his feelings about things at school. At one point, he'd thought she was Cedric and begged for forgiveness for not being smarter and insisting on Cedric take the Cup back to school as soon as it was clear they weren't at Hogwarts any longer. Then he moved ahead to Sirius' death and that just about broke her. The anguish she could literally feel pouring out of Harry washed through her and it was like a tidal wave. He utterly shocked her by what he'd 'confessed' to next.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry. I almost got you killed. Please forgive me. If you had died, I don't know what I would have done. I think I started to like you even then but I just didn't see it. Please say that you forgive me."

"It's okay, Harry," Ginny softly spoke, voice full of unshed tears. "You're forgiven, though I don't feel there's anything to forgive."

"Sirius. All my fault. I didn't listen. I never listen. I didn't listen and now he's dead."

Ginny wanted to point out that it had Sirius who hadn't listened but knew trying to be rational while Harry wasn't wouldn't do any good. Feeling he just needed to talk it all out, she let him and washed him down to keep the fevers manageable, holding his hand when he'd let her. Listening to his side of the final battle nearly killed her.

"I passed you on my way out that night. I wanted to say good-bye but if I had, I wouldn't have been able to through with it. As grateful as I was for friends and a family, you were the best. I never felt as whole as I did with you. I did it all for you."

"I know, Harry," she said softly.

"I used the Stone. I used the Resurrection Stone and brought back my parents, Sirius, and Remus. Sirius told me it didn't hurt to die and it didn't. As I saw that curse coming at me, all I could think of was you. Every touch, every look, every kiss we shared, I remembered."

"Oh, Harry." Tears openly raced down her cheeks.

"Then everything changed."

Harry's voice was light but slightly fatalistic. He turned from Ginny as, in his mind's eye, he watched as a wall blew inward and took Fred from them. He saw a green streak of malevolent light barely miss Ginny. Saw the still forms of friends, classmates, strangers arranged side by side on the floor of the Great Hall. Then he tensed and turned back to Ginny, a frosty look in his eyes, his voice cold.

"Then you acted like I didn't exist. You have no idea how much that hurt. I gave you EVERYTHING that I had, sacrificed EVERYTHING for you and you turned against me."

The moment his words began to register, Ginny began shaking her head. "No. No, I didn't think that. I was grieving for Fred but I tried to find you, too."

"Right. You didn't try very hard or very long, did you?" He laughed harshly. "I loved you and you ripped me apart." He gave another half laugh. "Wanna know something? Something pathetic? I'd do it all again, in a heartbeat. Despite everything, I still love you."

Tears filled Harry's eyes and ran unchecked down his face. "I still love you and I can't make it go away. I've tried."

Ginny engulfed Harry in a hug to rival her mother's. Both allowed their emotions an outlet, resting their heads on each other's shoulders. Harry cried for all the loss that had been unavoidable, including the loss of what he considered to be his better half, his whole reason for living. Ginny wept for all the pain Harry had been put through his entire life. It never seemed to stop for him. She wept for finding that glimmer of hope that things would be okay between them again. Now that she knew the truth, no matter how much he pushed her away, she vowed to push right back. She wasn't going to let him give up, on himself nor on them.

After a bit, Ginny realized Harry had fallen asleep yet again. Gently, she lay him back, tucked him in, curled up on her chair and immediately drifted off.


	7. Are We Having Fun Yet?

_**These five words in my head scream  
Are we having fun yet?**_

Harry lurched awake when a pillow landed on his face. Recovering his glasses, he saw Bill in his doorway.

"Up. We've got work to do."

Harry glanced blearily at the clock. Seven o'clock in the morning. He'd been having the most restful bit of sleep he'd had in, well, he couldn't remember how long and Bill had to wake him. Harry stared at the elder Weasley and made to go back to sleep.

"Uh uh. Up. There's work to be done."

"I'm not your slave. You can't make me do a damn thing."

Bill came in, threw the blanket off Harry and hauled him to his feet.

"I can and I will because you need the physical labor to think and my wife would like to have a good sized flower and vegetable garden. Everyone wins."

"I don't want to think," Harry pulled away from Bill.

"Too bad. It's time you start thinking about someone other than yourself."

Harry glared at Bill _Who made him all high and mighty? All I do is think of everyone. Everyone who was lost. They won't leave me alone. The last thing I need is time to think._ As those thoughts ran through Harry's mind, Bill crossed the room to the dresser, pulled out some clothes and tossed them to Harry.

"Get dressed then come downstairs for breakfast. If you're not down in ten minutes, I'll come back up here and dress you myself."

"I don't feel like eating."

"Too bad. You're going to eat. You're going to need it."

Harry watched Bill slam the door behind him. Indignant at the way he'd just been treated, Harry stalked around his room, muttering.

"Who does he think he is? He has no right to keep me here, no right to push me around like this. I save their bloody lives and they imprison me!"

Unaware of how much time had gone by, Harry was once again surprised by the bedroom door opening and Bill entering the room. The long-haired redhead wore a disappointed expression before a look of resignation hardened his features.

"I had really hoped I wouldn't have to do this but have it your way."

A quick flick upward with his wand had Harry's sleep shirt peeling upward and over his head. The clean shirt popped itself over Harry's head and fell limply at his sides, trapping Harry's arms As Harry was getting his arms in the correct holes, his widened as he felt his pajama bottoms drop to his ankles and then take his feet out from under him sending him toppling onto his bed. Finally getting his arms through their proper holes, Harry glared at Bill.

"Don't look at me like that. I warned you."

"Fine," Harry muttered. "I can do the rest myself, thank you very much."

Harry swiped the still floating jeans and hurriedly put them on before they were directed, none too gently, onto his body. Socks and his trainers landed next to him and he donned those. Afterward, the pair headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Ginny was finishing up with the pancakes, placing them on the table as Bill and Harry walked in. Charlie was at the table enjoying his breakfast and only glanced quickly up at the pair before turning back to his food. Ginny quietly sighed at the scowl on Harry's" face. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, the skin under them also red edging toward blue. Straigtening her shoulders, she pasted a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Harry. Hope you're feeling up to some pancakes this morning."

"Not particularly no. And it was a good morning until I was rudely awakened."

Despite his words, Harry pulled out one of the chairs across from Ginny and sat. Bill sat next to him, plopped a pancake onto Harry's plate and cutting it in two. Harry watched the entire procedure with no little bit of resentment.

"I can feed myself, thanks," his voice heavily sarcastic.

Bill forked several pancakes onto his own plate before pouring on some maple syrup. He shrugged at Harry's words.

"Sure you can. Just like you've been doing all this time, right? Eat at least one of those halves, preferably all of it."

"You just worry about your own food and let me take care of mine, huh?"

"But you're not, Harry." Ginny spoke quietly.

Harry pinned her with a stony glare. Picking up his fork, he cut a half into two then cut those pieces into halves. Catching one of the resulting pieces on the end of his fork with an angry jab, he shoved it into his mouth. Haltingly, he chewed. As he did so, he noticed a little extra flavor added to the pancakes. _Is that...banana? _His nose caught up with his taste buds. _It is. I can smell it._ When he couldn't possibly chew the bite any longer, he swallowed and waited anxiously for what his stomach would do. When it merely gave a small swoop, he took another bite then another until before he'd realized it, his plate was empty.

"Finish your glass of water and we'll get started on our project."

"I'm not a child."

Bill opened his mouth but Charlie beat him to it. "Then stop acting like one."

"Who are you to judge me? How dare you? You know nothing about me! You--"

"STOP IT!" Ginny cried out. "Just stop. Both of you. Harry, you're right. You're not a child and we don't know everything you've gone through but that's you're own doing. You can't shut us out and then yell at us for not knowing what things are like. Let us in so we can understand."

Harry stared at Ginny's flashing brown eyes, face flushed with anger. Yes, she was quite upset but he could also see concern there. Concern for him. _She looks so good. She certainly was never one to hide her temper. That spark of life in those honey eyes, those berry lips. I bet they taste just as sweet as they did before. Merlin, I miss running my hands through her hair, all fiery and silky...Wait, what am I thinking? No, I can't think like that. Not anymore._ He shook his head to clear it, took another gulp of water and walked out the back door. Charlie, having finished his breakfast, followed him.

"Told you he'd be back to his surly self in the morning," Bill quipped.

Laughing slightly, it relieved the siblings of the mounting tension. As quickly as it had come, however, it fled again to leave the room in silence. Ginny picked at her food. Bill rapidly devoured his before standing. He glanced at Ginny.

"Gin, hang in there. Believe it or not, I could see a bit of the old Harry for a second while he was staring at you. I think you'll bring him around more than me or Charlie. Just be present. Don't overdo it, mind, but don't hide either. A part of him already wants back what he had, trust me."

Ginny sighed. Hearing Bill's words confirmed what she'd thought she'd seen in Harry's gaze. She'd thought his eyes had softened for the briefest of moments but was afraid to hope.

"I know, Bill. I saw it, too but wasn't sure if I was just seeing what I'd wanted to see."

The older Weasley smiled. "Give us a little while to get into a rhythm and then you can come out and wander, join us or whatever. Just know that Charlie and I plan on working Harry fairly hard so he's going to be exhausted and even more surly."

Ginny gave her brother a hug and brief kiss before he walked out the door to join the other two people out at the area that would soon become a garden. Ginny watched him go, even more determined than before. _Oh, yeah, I can be present. Harry, you may be stubborn but you've got nothing on a Weasley._ Finishing her breakfast, she began to plan.

As Ginny was making her plans for Harry, Bill joined the others on the section of soon-to-be garden.

"Okay, Harry, we need your help in turning the soil within the rock border that's been already laid out."

"What do you need _my_ help for? You have wands. Use them. Better yet, let me have mine so _I_ can use it."

"No can do, Harry. We're doing this Auntie Muriel's way. She swears that by breaking the ground up by hand, you'll get better results."

"That means," Charlie picked up three tools laying nearby and handed one to each of them, "we use shovels."

Harry stared incredulously at the shovel in his hand. _How can they possibly think this much ground can be turned using shovels? We'll be out here forever! Uh-uh. No way. I'm not a slave they can just put to work whenever suits their whims._

"You're kidding me, right? You have to be out of your heads if you think that I'm going to–"

"That's right, you're going to," interrupted Charlie, "we're all going to."

"You want to get out of here, don't you, Harry?" Bill asked with a slight smirk. "When the gardens are done, you're free from here."

Harry stared at Bill then Charlie before staring at the two plots of land. He huffed, marched over to a far corner and struck the earth with his spade. Each action of ramming the blade into the ground and tossing the shovelful aside belied the anger seething inside. Unbeknownst to Harry, Bill and Charlie took up positions not far from him.

"Good and deep, Harry," Bill instructed. "The ground needs to be loose so the roots will have an easier time of establishing themselves."

Harry's response was to mumble to himself as he threw himself into the work. _The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can get out of here. What a glorious day that will be. _Surreptitously, he glanced at the brothers. Both had their backs to him, working hard. He glanced behind him. Sorely tempted to drop his shovel and return to the house, he gripped the tool harder and kept working. _The only thing you'll find in there is temptation. You're a damn moth to her flame and you know it. After everything, you don't deserve her anymore._

The door opened and the object of Harry's musings appeared. A tray with three tall glasses of ice water floated before her. She sent it to a table under one of the trees. Turning back in their direction, she smiled and walked over.

"I thought you guys might be thirsty. There's water at the table."

"Thanks, sis. That sounds great," Charlie dropped his shovel, heading for the table.

"Perfect," agreed Bill, who also ran for the refreshment.

Awkwardly, she turned back to Harry, only to find him watching her. She tilted her head slightly, welcoming his scrutiny. If she hadn't been watching for it, she'd have missed it. However, she had been watching and saw, for the briefest of moments, longing in his eyes. Her smile grew to a more natural one.

"Thirsty, Harry?"

_Now there's a loaded question if I ever heard one_, Harry couldn't help thinking. _Yes, very much so. Thirsty for some firewhiskey. Thirsty for you._ He shrugged and grunted.

"Well, come on then or the guys will drink your share."

Ginny walked away from Harry but as she did so, she twisted her hair into a messy bun, using her wand to hold it in place. She practically held her breath hoping to hear the telltale signs of him following her, nearly jumping for joy when she heard his hesitant shuffling steps. Reaching the table first, she picked up his glass and handed it to him, making sure their hands made the tiniest bit of contact, long enough to be definite but short enough to be taken as accidental.

After the break, Ginny joined the others in the work. Harry wanted to object since she kept distracting him but he also knew, with her helping, the work could go qicker and he could leave sooner. Surprisingly, he found the task kept his mind busy and away from distressing thoughts. That is to say, it did until the sound of rock falling down rock reached his ears. His head whipped around.

Not far from Bill and Charlie, a rockpile had grown where any rocks from the soil had been tossed. Occasionally, big rocks had been tossed onto the pile with smaller rocks on top, some tumbling down to the base of the pile, and that was what had caught Harry's attention. He watched as two more fist sized stones sailed through the air and landed with a _crack_. A slightly larger one followed them and rolled down the pile.

Instantly, Harry was taken back to the moment of Fred's death. Sweat broke out all over and his breathing became erratic. His heart raced as, in his mind, he saw the wall explode inward, heard the bits of rock hit the inside wall and tumble to the floor. Anguished screams rent the air and Harry covered his ears in an effort to block out the sounds from that time.

Lost in the past, he fell to his knees, eyes squeezed shut, rocking back and forth. He was only vaguely aware of his body's trembling or the tears that ran unchecked down his sweaty cheeks. With his entire being, he tried to deny what is was he was seeing but his mind was stronger. Harry felt his stomach churn as the smell of the soil combined with the remembered scent of rock dust as the walls of Hogwarts were blasted apart.

"No," he pleaded. "No. No. No."

Harry felt two smaller hands cover his own. Those hands moved his away from his ears and gripped them tightly. Another two hands, these much larger, cupped his face forcing him to look into Bill's concerned eyes.

"Harry, breathe with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale."

Briefly, Harry wondered why Bill wanted him to breathe that way but then heard his own wheezing breath and felt his frantic heartbeat. He started to panic even more at that but Bill's calm voice and sure grip broke through the haze and he started to breathe easier, bringing his heart rate back under control.

"Talk to us, Harry. What were you seeing?"

Harry stared at Charlie and, for a second, it was like seeing Fred. Yes, George and Fred were identical but something about Charlie's features reminded Harry of Fred. Anger welled up and exploded before he could even think to stop it.

"You really want to know?! I'll tell you. I saw Fred's last moments again. I could hear the walls falling apart! Could smell the dust in the air from missed spells! I keep seeing that Killing Curse just barely missing Ginny! I keep remembering how close your Mum came to dying! I keep seeing Colin, who never should have been there, being carried away into the Great Hall to be placed with all the others! I KEEP SEEING HOW FULL THE GREAT HALL IS AFTER THE BATTLE! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?"

Feeling his stomach lurch, Harry scrambled away managing to reach a tree before he lost what little remained of breakfast. He groaned at the approaching footsteps. He turned and faced the three Weasleys.

"How can you do this to me?" he asked, silently pleading with them. "Just let me have one drink. Just one. Everything will be better after that. Please."

"You know we can't, Harry. And you know it will only make things worse. Believe it or not, this is actually doing you some good. It's all coming out like it needs to."

Harry's temper fired up again. "Who died and made you my keeper? Enjoying torturing me, are you? Having fun at my expense? Let's just get that damned ground plowed so I can get away from here."

Harry shoved his way through the three, picked up his shovel and turned the ground with angry strokes.

Bill turned to his siblings. "It's hard to think so now but he's actually making progress. It didn't take much prodding to get him to open up."

"I suppose," Ginny shrugged.

"Remember what you said before, Gin," Charlie comforted her. "He's worth it. Whatever it takes."

Over the next few days, similar instances occurred and Harry always ended them with the same scornful question.

"Are we having fun yet?"

After two weeks of hard labor, the plots were plowed. No matter how the Weasleys tried, Harry remained distant and refused to return to the Burrow with them. Harry barely listened to Charlie as he tapped his newly returned wand on his leg and waited for Bill to remove the wards that would allow his escape.

"If you ever feel like stopping by--" Charlie was saying when Harry popped out of existence. He turned to see his brother returning.

"He just take off?" Bill asked.

At Charlie's nod, Bill sighed. "We have to believe we got through to him on some level."

Bill draped on arm across Ginny's shoulders and hugged her. "Don't give up on him, Gin. Stay strong a little while longer."

"I'm not giving up. I'm _never_ giving up."

"So what do we tell everyone?" asked an apprehensive Charlie.

"The truth. It's all we _can_ say."

The three stood in that spot, lost in their own contemplations for a long while before deciding to return home. Their return was greeted exactly how they'd feared it would be, a mix of surprise and sadness with a little outrage thrown in for good measure.

"How could you have let him go off by himself again!" screeched Molly.

"He has to come to us, Mum. It's the only way it'll work."

"But he's still hurting, isn't he," she countered, more a statement than question.

Arthur jumped into the conversation in an attempt to help Bill. "Molly, Bill has a point. They've done what they can. The more we push the more likely we'll push him away."

"I just don't want to lose another one, Arthur," Molly sniffed.

The Weasley patriarch took his wife of many years into his arms and rocked her. "I know. I don't either."

Charlie caught Ron's and Hermione's expressions. "You two leave him be as well. Ron, he's already spoken to you. Hermione, I know you're best friends, but this is NOT a time to push."

He turned to the remaining Weasleys. "George, Percy, promise me you will NOT go looking for him. If any of us go to him trying to get him to come back, we may lose him for good."

At their reluctant nods, Charlie sighed. "We just have to give him some time and be patient. The boy, well, man is smart. He knows what's right and he's always done what was right over what was easy."


	8. Bring Me to Life

_**Now that I know what I'm without**_

_**Bring me to life**_

Harry appeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and immediately searched for a bottle. At first, he simply moved things in the cupboards but as he grew more desperate, he pulled items from their shelves and dumped them on the floor. He checked the pantry, under the sink where Sirius had often hidden his bottles...nothing. Angry at his failure, not to mention his former captors, the dinnerware and drinking glasses met the same fate as the food. By the time he'd finished venting his frustration and anger, the kitchen looked for all the world as if some Death Eaters had gotten in and looted the place.

Chest heaving, heart pounding, he looked around at the destruction. The chaotic mess brought back memories of the Battle that caused Harry's stomach to lurch. Stumbling to the sink, he barely made it before he was ill. Afterward, he rested his forehead on the edge of the cold sink. Tears spilled down his eyes before he could stop them. Slowly, he sank to his knees, his back still to the shambles that used to be his kitchen. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he sobbed, not making a sound, until it hurt.

After a long while, he stood, glanced briefly at the evidence of his fury, before struggling up the stairs to the sitting room. He felt lethargic, numb. Forcing himself to place one foot in front of the other, he made his way to the couch and stretched out, face down, one arm dangling over the side. Sleep claimed him immediately. Soon after, the dreams began again. The cold, hard faces of the Weasleys, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus. Even Dobby's eyes held condemnation. Jerking awake, Harry reached for a nonexistent bottle.

"Damn." He swallowed, rubbed his eyes with shaky hands, took a deep breath. "I seriously need a drink. And I'm going to get one. No one is here to tell me what I can or can't do. No one has that right."

Making sure he still had his wand in his pocket, he checked the time. Desperation starting to set in, he was glad it was still fairly early in the day. With purposeful strides, he exited the house and walked the distance to Gerry's place. Glancing in the big window, he saw it was fairly empty inside. Relieved, Harry walked in.

"Haven't seen you here in a while. I had hoped I wouldn't be seeing you again. I had hoped you'd kicked the stuff."

Harry turned to the man, Gerry, behind the counter. "I didn't come here to be patronized or pitied. I don't need your oh so witty conversation so just shut up and leave me be."

With that, Harry continued on to the aisle containing the whiskey. Carefully, he drew his wand and placed it on the shelf before choosing two bottles. Hurriedly, he made his way to the counter, bottles in one hand, wand in the other. He set the bottles on the check out counter, glanced around quickly and muttered a spell when the older man wasn't looking.

"You're going to let me start a tab," Harry instructed. "Every time I come in here, you'll nod in my direction, write down what I've taken and expect no payment until later. Is that understood?"

The man nodded blankly and Harry released the spell, swiftly tucking his wand away.

"Tell you what," Gerry said, "as long as you promise to pay me later, I'll let you start a tab. I'll just keep a record of what you take. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fine," Harry said with a smirk.

Once Gerry had made a note of the two bottles on the counter, Harry gave the man a mocking wave, grabbed the bottles and walked out the door. In the alley, he shrunk one and slipped it into his pocket. The other he opened and downed a big swallow feeling it burn all the way down. Sighing, he headed for his favorite haunt, the park and 'his' tree.

He'd just settled in under the tree when he heard one of the loveliest sounds he'd ever heard. Bold laughter. Laughter so familiar it made his heart ache. _No. It can't be. Not here. She can't be here._ Standing to get a better look, he saw a young woman with fiery hair walking in his direction. His heart began to pound and Harry thought for sure it was going to leave his chest entirely. Then she got close enough for him to see it wasn't her. Harry clenched his jaw against the sudden tears in his eyes. As he watched her watery form come closer, she vanished! _What the...?_

The crunch of grass underfoot to his left caught his attention. Another young redheaded woman leisurely walked his way. Uncontrollably, Harry felt his heart kick start again only to shatter a second time when he realized this girl wasn't his Ginny. As the first one had, this one, too, vanished into thin air right before his eyes. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

_That wasn't Ginny. Her eyes were wrong. Too round, not to mention they were blue. Her nose was different too. Ginny's nose curves upward slightly at the end. It's what makes her nose such a cute one. It gives her an impish look that suits her completely. But then...how did she disappear? And the first girl?_

Harry turned in a circle in an attempt to find the red-haired girls but saw no one even remotely similar. For a long time he stood there, eyes stinging, heart constricting. He felt as if he'd lost her again. Wanting to drown his sorrow, he took a drink of the whiskey only to find he couldn't get it past the lump in his throat and he choked. His grip tightened on the neck of the bottle as he tried to keep the coughs from becoming sobs. Fearing the loss of tight control over his emotions, Harry hurried back to Grimmauld Place. He failed to see a fiery haired teen watching him, tears making tracks on her cheeks but her eyes filled with a fierce determination.

By the time he made it back to the house, Harry's vision was swimming with unshed tears. He passed the still trashed kitchen and climbed the stairs to the sitting room. Once there, he flung himself onto the couch, pulled the blanket from its back, curled into a ball and wept. Great noisy gasps filled the silence. He'd failed. He'd failed everyone. He'd failed in finishing off Voldemort in time to save all those lives. He'd failed the Weasleys in allowing Fred to perish. He'd failed to even properly drown out his feelings.

After the tears had been spent, he lay on the couch in a stupor aware of nothing. One by one the faces of the dead marched in front of his eyes. Slowly he rose and headed up the stairs to the bedroom he'd been using. The second the door opened, his eyes found what he'd been hoping to find. Never taking his eyes from it, Harry slowly entered the room. It seemed to call him and his feet followed. Before he knew it, he was picking up the shard of glass he'd previously kept at his bedside. He tested the point and found it still as sharp as he remembered.

Sitting on the bed, he continued to study the glass. Taking it in his fist, pointing downward, he lashed out. With dull eyes, Harry watched a ribbon of red well up and follow the glass tip down his arm. Red trickled in every direction. Fascinated with the red beads, he watched them meander their way over his arm, down to his fingers and soaking his jeans. Then the pain registered and he cried, holding his arm protectively against his side.

"Mum, Dad," he whispered. "What do I do now? How can I live when so many died? I don't deserve to live. I should have died. It should have been me."

Over and over, he whispered, "It should have been me."

Harry fell asleep repeating the mantra.

It was morning before Harry awoke. He felt marginally better until he moved his arm. Putting away the reddened glass, Harry stood and made his way to the loo. He washed the slice in his arm as best he could. A quick _Episkey_ healed it slightly. Harry could tell it would scar. Once again, he regretted not learning any real healing spells. _Oh, well. What's one more, really? _After changing his clothes, he grabbed a bite of bread, picked up his ever present bottle, and headed out to the park, to his tree.

He watched the families playing with envy. Family was the one thing he'd always ever wanted. Fate was such a cruel bitch. When he'd thought he didn't have a future, he'd had the one person he could see himself having a family with. Now he had a future and the girl he wanted was gone. His throat threatening to close up on him, Harry quickly brought the bottle to his lips for another swallow.

His gaze lazily roamed the park and caught a flash of brilliant red hair. His heart kickstarted into double time, muscles tensed as he watched her come closer. The girl carried something, a bundle of pale blue in her arms. It took Harry a few seconds to realize it was blanket. The blanket fell away at one end and revealed..._No. No way. There's no way that kid has pink hair. It's just a hat or something. But the kid's wrapped in BLUE blanket. Why would it be wearing a pink hat?_ Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he reopened them, the two were gone. _Where'd they go?_

Several more times, Harry thought he saw the red-haired girl and baby. Each time, they seemed to disappear into thin air. _Teddy._ The single thought brought an intense pressure to Harry's chest making it very difficult to breathe. Eyes burning, he ran back to the house, straight up the stairs to his room. Rubbery legs wouldn't hold him anymore and he collapsed beside his bed. _Teddy. How could I forget about Teddy? Some godfather I am. Just one more failure to add to my long list of failures._

The pressure in his chest became unbearable and, without thinking, he reached for the glass. The pain in his arms brought him out of the trance-like state he'd been in. Looking down, he was a mildly surprised to see the criss-crossing marks left there. He was also mildly surprised to note the pressure in his chest had lessened. Cleaning himself up, he thought about the previous day and earlier that day. He continually ended up at the same conclusion. He wanted to see Ginny again. He wanted to be with her the way he'd once dreamed. He wanted to see Teddy, too. There just wasn't any denying it any longer.

_Will she even want to see me? Would it hurt to try? What of Andromeda? Would she even want me near Teddy? Again, would it hurt to try?_

Utterly drained, Harry fell asleep to those thoughts.


	9. Worn Thin, Awful State I was In

_**Worn thin, Awful state I was in,**_

_**But I don't wanna be lonely anymore**_

"You did WHAT?"

The young female Weasley turned to her oldest brother, her chin inching up slightly at his expression.

"You heard me." _Though I rather wish you hadn't._

"I told you he has to come back on his own. You can't force him. The harder you push, the further away he's going to get!"

Ginny stalked right up to her brother and yelled in his face, "Don't you think I know that? Give me _some_ credit, at least!"

Bill took a step back at the vehemence in his sister's voice, not to mention the murderous glint in her eyes.

"I _said_ I went to see him. I never said anything about actually talking to him."

In that moment, Ginny reminded Bill very much of Fred and George. The thought brought a pang of sadness. _It's just George now. Fred wouldn't want us fighting and he likely would have done the same thing Ginny had done, if not more. _Bill sighed as his anger left him.

"Sorry, Shortcake. I didn't mean to yell. So, what exactly did you do, then, if you didn't speak with him?"

Ginny smiled slightly before punching Bill in the arm. "I told you to never call me Shortcake again. As I was saying to Ron and Hermione here before I was so rudely interrupted, I went to see Harry. Found him in the park, under that tree, just as Ron said. I borrowed the Order's Invisibility Cloak, changed a few of my features a bit thanks to Hermione's glamour charms, and proceeded to show Harry what he was missing by staying away."

"So, what happened?" asked Ron.

"I caught his attention."

"And?" Hermione drew out the word, motioning impatiently with her hand to continue.

"And then I'd disappear."

Ron stared quizzically at Ginny while Hermione and even Bill began to grin. Bill spoke the conclusion he and Hermione had come to.

"So, in other words, you appeared to look like yourself from a distance, making him remember you, and then, when you got close, he saw it wasn't you, making him wish it had been."

"Exactly. That was the first day and I could tell it was working. Every time he caught sight of me, his whole demeanor changed. He was more alert, hopeful, you know? He needed to realize he was still needed and that's when another idea occurred to me. Who needs Harry more than even we do?"

"Teddy," whispered Hermione.

Ginny grinned. "Ten points to Hermione. I Floo'd to Andromeda's house and after explaining what I was trying to do, she let me take Teddy out to the park. When I got close to where Harry was sitting, I made sure the blanket fell away Teddy's head to expose his hair and _prayed_ that Teddy would do his thing. And he did! Just as Harry glanced our way, Teddy changed his hair from red to bubble gum pink, the same shade Tonks used to wear hers."

"Ginny, that was a bit dangerous! All those Muggles!"

"Not to worry, Hermione, Andromeda added charms to Teddy so they'd only see red hair."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's alright, then."

"What did Harry do?"

Ginny looked over to Bill and giggled. "It was almost comical, the look on his face. It was as if he'd never seen a metamorphmagus before." Her smile faltered as she continued. "Then he ran but not before I saw the longing in his eyes. He'll be showing up soon, trust me."

"I hope you're right, Gin," Bill said quietly, "for Mum's sake as well as everyone else's."

hghg

After having put the kitchen back to rights, Harry wandered his bedroom, putting off leaving, all the while calling himself all kinds of coward. After pacing back and forth for the hundredth time, Harry stopped, put a few things in his pocket, and disappeared. A noisy _crack_ later and he was standing in a copse of trees not far from the only home he could remember. He stood there a moment, just staring. On the outside, nothing had changed but it was the inside, the people, who had him worried. Had they changed? Were they still the same people who had welcomed him with open arms a lifetime ago?

Forcing his feet to move, he haltingly made his way toward the crooked house. The closer he got, the harder it became to breathe. His heart pounded, his stomach churned and he broke out into a cold sweat. _What if they tell me to leave? What then? What if they blame me for Fred? For Remus, Tonks, and all the others? What if they hate me now? Can I really do this? Do I really want to do this? Isn't better to just not know?_ A tiny voice in the back of Harry's mind spoke up. _No, you need to know. If they don't want anything to do with you then so be it but at least you'll know._

Climbing the front steps, Harry noted the sign proclaiming this to be 'The Burrow' still stood. He also took note of the stack of old rusted cauldrons and pile of old Wellingtons carelessly tossed aside. _I guess some things don't change._ His heart in his throat, Harry knocked. He waited for what felt like forever, his thumbs tapping nervously against his legs. He'd almost convinced himself to hightail it back to Grimmauld Place when the door creaked open.

"HARRY!" Molly cried and immediately pulled the young man into the house. "I'm so glad to see you. We've all been so worried about you!"

Molly proceeded to give him one of her patented hugs, frowning when she felt how truly thin he was. Tears threatened to spill as she silently thanked every deity she could think of for bringing Harry back to them. Realizing Harry hadn't made a single move since she'd pulled him inside, she stepped back and met his eyes. What she saw there shocked her. The pain, the guilt, the anger, the fear, they were all there in his hardened gaze. Gone were the glittering emerald eyes of a year ago. His eyes held the jaded look of a warrior who'd seen too much to ever be whole again. Before she could say more, she heard the approaching steps of several of her family.

"Harry!"

Hermione threw her arms around Harry's neck just as Mrs. Weasley moved away.

"It's so good to see you! Are you okay? Why did you just leave like that?"

Then she burst into tears and had to be forcibly removed from her best friend. Harry still didn't move. He didn't say a word. Ron greeted Harry next with a quick slap on the back and a grin. Harry watched as Ginny smirked at Bill and Charlie. Not knowing what that was about, he decided perhaps it was better to just not know.

"Harry," Charlie greeted, hand held out. "It's certainly good to see you here."

"Yes, Harry, we're all very happy to see you come back."

Harry glanced at Charlie's still outstretched hand before meeting Bill's eyes. He didn't know whether to shake Charlie's hand or not. If he did, would that be the equivalent of saying all was forgiven? Was all forgiven? Harry certainly wasn't sure. If he didn't shake Charlie's hand, would that upset them? Make them rethink about inviting him back into their lives? The best he could do was give Charlie a nod of acknowledgment, which the Weasley returned, letting his hand drop. Before he could respond to Bill, Ginny shoved her way between her oldest brothers.

"Alright, let him breathe, would you? Attack the poor guy as soon as he steps into the house, sheesh. No wonder he looks like he wants to run."

Gently, she took his hand and led Harry to the couch. She smiled when he sat on the edge of the cushion. The smile faded as she realized what he was wearing. It was very warm out and yet, Harry was wearing a long sleeved shirt. The sleeves were so long half his hands were concealed. Granted, the shirt wasn't heavy but it still should have been uncomfortable. Ginny would almost have sworn the shirt had once belonged to Dudley except it seemed to fit everywhere else.

"Harry, aren't you hot in that shirt?"

Harry's head whipped around to Ginny, alarm showing in his eyes. "Er, no. No, I'm fine. Just fine. Really."

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully upon hearing the nervous catch in his voice. Ginny noticed Hermione's eye roll and Ron's head shake. They didn't believe him either. _He's not fine. He's hiding something, but what? _A proverbial light went off in her mind and she went with it.

"Harry, your scars aren't something to be ashamed of."

Harry jumped off the couch. "What?!"

His heart began pounding a frantic rhythm. His breath caught and he started to shake. Panic began setting in at the idea she somehow knew about his scars.

"How do you know about them? What makes you think I have any scars?"

"Harry," Ginny spoke quietly, "there was a war. You're bound to have gotten a few, right? You don't have to be embarrassed by them."

The instant Ginny said war, all sound in the room dimmed and was replaced by sounds from the Battle. Curses cast, bodies falling, walls exploding Sweat broke out all over as he witnessed, all over again, the deaths of Fred, Dobby, and so many others. He could feel the grime on his skin, could smell the dust and blood, death, in the air. Bile rose up his throat and Harry made a break for the front door. Leaning over the the small stoop's rail, he emptied his stomach.

Alarmed when Harry fled, Ginny jumped off the couch and made to follow but Bill stopped her.

"What did I say?" She was so confused. "Bill, I have to go after him."

"It was mentioning the war," the oldest Weasley sibling explained. "Don't look like that, it was good that you said it. We can't avoid saying it or talking about it. It won't do us any good and it certainly won't help him, either. Ginny, you remember him having a similar reaction during that week at my house?"

"Yes, but we weren't talking then, just working."

"Still. Any reminders of the war are likely going to have this adverse reaction. Mum, don't," Bill warned as Molly started for the door. "I know how hard it is to not go to him but he's going to be heavily embarrassed. Give him some privacy. Give him a chance to get himself back together."

"But Bill," Molly protested, "he's not alright. Did you see the look in his eyes?"

"Panic," came Hermione's soft voice. All eyes turned to her. "That's what it was. I've read about war veterans and how they have trouble in regular society. Often it's due to panic attacks or, more seriously, Post Traumatic Stress. I think that's Harry's problem now. I've read how someone with PTSD can be forced to relive whatever horrors they suffered by a mere scent. Ginny mentioned the war and it brought everything back to Harry. He's going to need some professional help to deal with this."

"And he'll get it." Molly's tone was hard but not unkind.

"The professional I spoke to before, I can get her to come out here to talk to Harry, I'm sure. She'd be very discreet."

"That's all well and good," Ginny argued, "but doesn't Harry deserve a say in this?"

Ron agreed. "Yeah, he hates it when others make decisions for him."

"Well, it'll be his choice whether he wants to talk to her but we _are_ bringing her in."

Ginny wanted to argue but Charlie's tone said it was no use. Sighing, she sat back on the couch to wait.

"He's been out there a long time," worried Molly.

"Give him a bit longer. If he doesn't come back in soon, I'll go out and check on him. He may be less embarrassed with me."

hg

Finally, Harry's stomach was empty. He couldn't believe he'd done that, in front of everyone, no less. Heat suffused his cheeks as shame filled him. He sat wearily in a corner away from the door. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out his wand, a metal flask, and a small dagger sharp piece of glass. After enlarging the flask, Harry took a pull of the fiery liquid before quickly shrinking it again and stuffing it back into his pocket. Next, he fingered the glass. The shame continued to build within him. Shame for being alive; shame for letting the Weasleys see how weak he truly was. The shame brought an intense pain with it. Not able to stand it any longer, Harry yanked up his sleeve.

Hg

"Um, sorry about that," Harry said shyly in the doorway.

All eyes turned back to him and he couldn't help but feel as if he was being inspected. Self-consciously, Harry curled his fingers into his palms and felt the edges of his sleeves. _Good. Everything's covered._

"No need to apologize, Harry," Molly responded. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Uh, sure," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Glancing around he noticed a few faces were missing. "Where's Fleur, Mr. Weasley, Percy and George?"

Charlie was the one to answer. "Dad and Percy are putting in some overtime at the Ministry and Fleur is helping Gringotts put some new security wards in place."

Harry winced slightly at the thought. "And George?"

Silence met the question. Harry looked at the faces before him and saw the same expression, worry mixed with sadness. Ron finally broke the heavy silence.

"Up in his room. Doesn't come down much."

Another stab of guilt pierced Harry. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, his fingers found the sharp comfort of the glass. He found himself wishing he was alone again but had to content himself with glass's heat.

"Harry," Ginny tentatively began to ask, "we'd like to bring in someone, a professional, to help you deal with everything."

"_Ginny!"_

"What?" Ginny responded to Hermione's admonishment. "I won't sit here and make decisions regarding Harry without his input. It's not right."

"I don't _need_ help."

"Yes, Harry, you do. What happened outside proves it."

Starting to panic again, Harry went on the defensive. "Nothing happened outside. What makes you think anything happened?"

"Harry, we heard you get sick. It's normal for someone in your condition."

Harry turned to his bushy haired friend, his voice beginning to rise. "What are you trying to say now? That I'm sick? Why stop there? Add _freak_ while you're at it! Bet you never thought you'd agree with the Dursleys, did you? I know _I_ didn't."

Molly came running back into the room at the shouting. Harry stood by the door, breathing heavily, face red and twisted in anger. Hermione stood rigidly, tears in her eyes. Molly could feel the electricity in the air. She watched as Bill slowly approached Harry.

"Calm down, Harry, before you end up destroying the house. No one's calling you anything."

Realizing he was close to blowing up, magically, Harry fought down the urge to lash out. Breathing under control once more, he apologized to everyone.

"Harry, let us bring someone here. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than it is to talk to a family member. The Healer I have in mind is very discreet. You don't even have to talk to her if you don't want to. Just let us bring her so she can be available to you."

Harry stared at Bill. Then he shrugged. "It's your house. Do what you want."

Taking that as a yes, Bill disappeared into the Floo. Several minutes later, Bill returned with a brunette in her mid- to late forties with short, wavy hair streaked with gray. The woman had a darker complexion and dark eyes. She spoke with a Spanish accent.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. My name is Mentalia Emenda." Emphasis was placed on the second syllable of her first and last name. "I'm sure you know but I'll tell you anyway. I am a Mind Healer. I've helped a lot of witches and wizards with things that were troubling them. Especially after the first war."

The Healer turned to the others. "May we have some privacy, please?"

Emenda watched her newest patient as the others left. From the little she'd been told, he was going to be quite a challenge. She wasn't sure which approach she wanted to take. She could push his buttons to get a reaction or sit back and just let things happen. She'd certainly been warned about his stubbornness and his temper.

"Have a seat, Harry." Once he sat, she continued. "Tell me about your childhood."

"What?"

Healer Emenda smiled, knowing she'd completely taken him off guard. She had a feeling something was lurking there that he'd not shared with anyone.

"Tell me about your childhood. It'll give me an idea of how you've been shaped into the person you are today."

Instead of answering, he sat stoically. Inwardly, Emenda smiled. _I can out-stubborn anyone._ She let the silence hang there and watched as Harry looked everywhere but in her direction. His leg bounced nervously, hands tapping out a random beat. One minute stretched to five stretched to twenty. Finally, the young man sighed and spoke barely above a whisper.

"I lived with my aunt, uncle and cousin. They didn't like me much."

"Why not?"

Again, he paused before answering. "They don't like magic."

"I see. That must have been difficult."

"You have no idea."

"So tell me. What was it like growing up in a house where you were different?" Harry tensed and the healer knew immediately she'd struck a nerve. "Don't like being different, Harry?"

Out of nowhere, the temper she'd been warned of, made an explosive appearance. "I wasn't normal! They hated me! I was miserable and no one from the wizarding world bothered to see if I was okay!"

_Now we're starting to get somewhere._ Calmly Mentalia asked her next question. "If you could say something to your relatives, without fear of them saying anything back, what would it be?"

Harry merely shrugged. "I don't know."

"Sure you do," she goaded, "Come on. I'm your aunt. What would you say?"

Irritated, Harry blurted out, "I'd want to know why. Why she even took me in."

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got and, to his surprise and horror, the words came pouring out.

"Why?! You knew I'd be magical, just like them! You took me in and made my life _Hell! _You made sure I knew I wasn't worth your time! Punishing me for magic I had no control over! Calling me a _freak_ every chance you got! My mum was your _sister_! How could you treat me like that?"

By this time, Harry was pacing the floor and screaming the words. Emenda sat and watched the teen pace, listening with growing astonishment at what he revealed, though she was careful not to let it show.

"I protected you from Voldemort and you treated me like rubbish! Thought I didn't know about that, did you? I figured it out after Dumbledore explained about the blood protection, why I had to keep going to your house every summer. For as long as I can remember you spoiled Dudley. Gave him everything he begged and threatened for while I got nothing! You treated me like a slave! Always doing chores, fixing your food and rarely getting to eat any of it! You _used_ me! I quickly learned to hold back in school or I'd get locked away in that bloody cupboard! Dudley and his little gang always beat me up and you _knew_ but did you ever do anything about it? NO!"

On and on the ranting went until he, literally, was unable to shout anymore. He was shocked to find his cheeks wet. He'd been unaware he'd started crying. Embarrassed and ashamed, he sank onto the couch before the Healer.

"Harry, look at me."

Slowly, Harry did so. He didn't see pity, or anger, or disgust. He saw compassion and it lightened his heart considerably.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. This little trip down memory lane was a tough one but it needed to be taken. Your reaction was quite... normal, how's that?"

Harry chuckled halfheartedly at that. Normal was all he'd ever wanted to be.

"There's a lot of issues here that we need to discuss but we'll do that next time. That is, if you'd like for there to be a next time. For your own peace of mind, know that I can't reveal anything we discuss to anyone. No one will even know that you and I are talking. You deserve that privacy."

"Thanks," Harry rasped.

"How about the same time next week?" Harry opened his mouth to respond but Emenda interrupted. "Just nod your head if that's okay."

Smiling weakly, Harry nodded, occasionally sniffing and swiping at the moisture in his eyes with his sleeves.

"Good. Stay here and compose yourself. I'll go see Molly."

She patted Harry gently on the knee before rising from her chair and entering the kitchen. Immediately, she noticed tears on the female faces, while the men all stood with teeth clenched, muscles tensed.

"I guess it's safe to assume you all heard that."

"How could they treat him like that?"

"Ginny," the Healer quietly said, "there's just no understanding what drives some people. Know this, though, that Harry has finally begun to heal. Getting all of that out is a very big step. He's going to be relying on all of you to help him. Let me give some advice before I go. Be there if he feels the need to talk but don't force him. And whatever else you do, _don't _pity him. He doesn't need it nor do I think he'd want it."

"We think he's suffering from PTSD," Hermione jumped in. "What do you think?"

Healer Emenda nodded. "That's very likely, especially after what happened at the mere mention of the war. It's going to take time and there _will _be more instances like that. Just be there for him. Supporting him will go a long way in his recovery."

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," Ron added, fidgeting slightly as he tried to gather his thoughts. "We also think he's become used to numbing himself with alcohol."

Healer Emenda nodded thoughtfully. "That often goes hand in hand with PTSD. Not knowing how to handle what they're feeling, they choose to numb themselves by any means necessary. Survivor's guilt can be crippling. From what I've heard just this afternoon, Harry's suffered from that his entire life."

"Of course," Hermione had finally put two and two together. "That makes so much sense. Why didn't I see this before? He's always took on guilt for every little thing, whether it was something he could control or not. It certainly explains his mood swings, especially during our fifth year."

"Exactly." Emenda glanced around a final time before moving towards the doorway. "Well, I'd better be off. I told Harry I'd see him here the same time next week."

"Thanks, Healer Emenda," Bill spoke quietly.

"Don't thank me. Harry's the one who's going to be doing all the work. I'm just here to listen."

With that, she disappeared into the Floo. Ginny took the tea her mum had prepared for Harry and headed into the sitting room only to find Harry curled up on his right side in the corner of the couch with his head resting on the couch arm, knees pulled up close to his chest, sound asleep. Stepping over to one of the chairs, she removed a light blanket from its back and spread it over Harry. She stood over him a moment, observing him, taking in his pale complexion and tear streaked face. Leaning over, she gently removed his glasses, ran a hand lightly through his hair then gave him a quick kiss to his temple.

Turning, she took the tea back into the kitchen.

"He's sleeping," she whispered to everyone still gathered there.

"No surprise, really," Molly said with a shake of her head and a sigh. She glanced around at the subdued faces in her kitchen. "It's not going to be easy but we'll get through this. This family had endured many things and we're not about to stop now.

It'll get easier, that I promise."


	10. Wrong Step, We Got Off Track

_**Wrong step, We got off track**_

_**We need someone to help us get back now**_

Harry abruptly woke from his nap. Disoriented, he tried to recall why exactly he was lying on the couch. Then it came flooding back. The Mind Healer, the "discussion" they had about his upbringing, his crying in front of her. His face heated in mortification at his lack of control over his emotions. _I can't believe I totally broke down like that. Some hero I am. Can't even keep it together talking about ancient history._ Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.

"Oh, good, you're awake," came a voice just over Harry's shoulder. "Dinner's on the table. Why don't you join us?"

Harry slipped his glasses back on his nose and studied the only 'mother' he could remember. Though her face was smiling, her eyes were not. Her eyes belied the great sadness she carried within. The skin under her eyes were red. More lines than he could ever recall her having testified to the hard year that they'd all lived. Grey was also more prevalent in her red hair. This woman had seen him through so many situations, had shown him unconditional love, gave him his first hug (that he could remember).

"I'm not really all that hungry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry sheepishly replied.

"Nonsense. A good wind would blow you away. Now come on."

Recognizing her tone as the 'don't bother arguing, you'll just lose' tone, Harry followed Molly into the kitchen. Memories flooded Harry's mind of this warm and inviting room. It was the room in which Molly had first invited him into the summer before his second year. The room in which he'd been accepted by Arthur the instant the man had met him. It was also the room in which he'd fully met Ginny, even if she had squeaked and run off. The summer before his fourth year, he'd learned of the Quidditch World Cup. Before his sixth year, he'd begun to notice how beautiful Ginny had become.

All these visions danced before his eyes as he stood just inside the door, warming his heart. That is, until the family sat at the table leaving a glaring spot where the twins should have been. Harry's heart gave a painful throb and he reached up to rub his chest, vision trying to blur with tears. Swallowing hard, he caught the look in Charlie's eye and, remembering the man's former threat about force feeding him, Harry sat quickly.

Just as he sat, reluctant footsteps caught his attention and he turned. George entered the room, eyes downcast, pale and with a demeanor more suited to Percy than the mischievous twin Harry had known him to be. George sat in his customary place, putting him directly across from Harry. Harry wanted so badly to apologize to George for what the twin was no doubt suffering through but even to Harry the words sounded lame. Instead, Harry turned his attention to putting food on his plate, stomach beginning to churn as he did so

Stilted conversation filled the tense silence for a little while. Harry had to fight to hold down every bite of food he took but he was managing until one voice stopped him cold.

"Fred wouldn't like this," George spoke in a flat tone, emphasizing Fred's name. "Fred," again emphasizing the name, "wouldn't want us to be this quiet. Fred would want the family to be loud and boisterous like we're supposed to be."

All eyes had flown to George as he started to speak. All eyes but Harry's. The instant George had uttered Fred's name, the twin's death replayed through Harry's mind. The sights, the sounds, the smells, they were all vividly reproduced for Harry's viewing displeasure. Each time Fred's name was mentioned a knife turned in Harry's chest making it hard to breathe.

"Fred would've pranked everyone by now," George continued, seemingly unaware of Harry's plight.

It was that last mentioning of Fred that had Harry running for the nearest door. He flung open the back door and ran. Only getting as far as a few feet from the porch, he leaned against the house and lost whatever he'd eaten.

The undeniable sounds of someone being sick reached the occupants in the kitchen. Accusing stares shifted from the kitchen window to George.

"Happy now?" Ginny angrily asked.

"Yeah, feel better, George?" Ron snapped.

"What? What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You know bloody well what we're talking about!" Ginny whispered forcefully, ignoring her mother's admonishing voice.

"We're trying to get Harry back with us not push him away and in one fell swoop you may have undone everything that Bill, Charlie and I have accomplished so far."

"Everyone seemed to need reminding. No one else has mentioned Fred yet."

George started to get angry with the attack upon him and he became rather defensive, lashing out with whatever came to mind.

"You all are so bloody worried about _him_," George pointed out the window, "that it's like you've forgotten Fred. Well, I haven't forgotten him. I'll never forget."

"We haven't forgotten Fred," Bill spoke quietly, firmly. "Neither has Harry. Why else do you think he's out there now heaving his guts out? You're not the only one who's been affected by the loss of Fred but you're acting like it. I know you were closer to him than all of us but you need to realize that we're all suffering in our own ways. I know you're looking for someone to blame but don't you dare put it on Harry's shoulders."

"Found a replacement for Fred already?" George threw down his serviette. "Well, then, let's all bow down to the great Harry Potter, shall we?"

George stormed from the room just as the Floo was activating. The once mischievous twin didn't stop to see who had come through but continued on to his room slamming the door once he got there. Arthur stood momentarily shocked by his middle son. When the Floo activated to allow Percy through, Arthur headed for the kitchen. Ginny was in the process of filling a glass of water. Molly was rummaging around in her potions pantry for something. Everyone else appeared a mix of angry and sad. He experienced his own pang of sadness at the emptiness of Fred's chair. That's when he noticed another empty chair. He'd received an owl from Molly telling him Harry had come back to them but now the lad seemed to have disappeared. Grimly, Arthur sighed. Victory wasn't supposed to be like this.

"What happened with George? Why did he go stomping out of here like a disrespected hippogriff? And where's Harry?"

Ginny took a vial of a green bubbly potion, the glass of water and went out the back door. Molly leaned against the sink a moment before turning back to her husband. She proceeded to explain all that had happened that afternoon and during the meal.

Ginny found Harry sitting on the ground, knees up, arms wrapped around his legs with his head on his knees. He looked so small and vulnerable it tore at her heart. Quiet sniffles could just be heard above the birds chirping in the evening heat. She sat beside him and wordlessly handed Harry the water. She waited as he quickly swiped at the tears before taking a few sips.

"Here, Mum said this would help your throat."

Harry took the vial of potion, completely embarrassed to know they'd heard him. Popping the tiny cork, he downed the potion and nearly gagged at the taste. It tasted about how he'd smelled after returning from the Chamber of Secrets, sweaty, dirty, slimy, and covered in basilisk blood. He gave a couple choking coughs half afraid his stomach would protest the vile stuff.

"Merlin, that stuff's nasty," he wheezed. "Is there like a law somewhere that says all potions must taste horrible?"

"You're not supposed to _want_ to take them," Ginny replied cheekily.

One corner of Harry's mouth quirked upward slightly before he sighed.

"Maybe I should just go back home, Gin. I don't want to cause anymore disruptions with your family."

"We're you're family, too, Harry. And George didn't mean any of what he said. You know that."

"You all have suffered enough. Having me around is just a reminder that I'm here and Fred isn't."

Starting to get angry now, Ginny turned to face Harry fully.

"And what would you do at Grimmauld Place, huh? Shut yourself away from everyone? Lie around, drink yourself into oblivion because you can't seem to stop?"

His own temper flaring, Harry's eyes flashed dangerously and when he spoke, each word was uttered very deliberately.

"I can stop anytime I want. You're just like Hermione! You think you know what's best for me but you don't! You don't know what's it's like to constantly be reminded that you're a reminder of someone somebody's lost!"

Harry was yelling now and he knew it but he couldn't seem to stop or to stem the hurtful words spewing from his mouth.

"I don't need your sanctimonious attitude so save it! I didn't ask for you to come out here! I didn't ask for you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong! So butt out!"

Harry jumped up and stormed off toward the edge of some woods a little ways away. Ginny watched him hurry off. She wanted to follow him and continue the argument, hoping to get him to see reason, but feared that was the wrong tactic to take. A few sniffles escaped her control but she refused to shed any tears. Sighing, she realized the kitchen had gone quiet and headed back inside. She wasn't looking forward to facing the looks but felt it better than going and making things worse with Harry.

For his part, Harry muttered to himself the entire way towards the forest's edge. _How dare she? Who does she think she is? She just doesn't know what it's like live your entire life reminding someone _of_ someone. So I take a little drink now and then? Okay, maybe more than a little but so what? It keeps me sane. Is that too much to ask? It's my life, after all. I can do with it what I want._

Harry ruthlessly squashed the little voice that told him she loved him and was trying to help. Fuming, he pulled his wand and cast a _muffliato_ in the house's direction. Sure that no one could hear a thing, he let a frustrated roar and punched the nearest tree. The pain that radiated up his arm kept him from doing that again. Fury still raging, he paced like a cornered animal. Reaching into his other pocket, Harry pulled out his ever-present shard of glass while revealing his arm with his free hand, having no clue his secret was about to be revealed.

After Ginny returned to the kitchen, Percy left the table and headed out into the backyard under the pretense of taking a walk to clear his head after the entire dinner theatrics. He was surprised when no one actually stopped him but since no one had, he continued on towards the trees where Ginny had said Harry had headed. He could just make out a figure pacing back and forth and decided to approach from a different direction to give Harry some time to vent his anger.

Percy didn't give Harry much time, however. He wasn't very far away and winced when Harry hit the tree. Harry's next move stopped Percy dead in his tracks. He stared, uncomprehendingly, a moment as Harry withdrew something from his pocket. Percy's jaw dropped as he watched, horrified, as Harry slashed the exposed arm drawing a fair amount of blood. Red flowing ribbons appeared as Harry vented his anger and pain. When it didn't appear that Harry had any plans of stopping, Percy snapped out of his stupor and ran forward.

"_Stop! Harry, stop it, right now! _What the_ bloody_ _hell _are you doing?"

Harry's eyes met Percy's and the Weasley caught a glimpse of anguish in the younger man's eyes. Harry tried to yank his sleeves back down, disregarding the blood but Percy grabbed both Harry's hands before he could. Percy's horrified gaze bounced from the glass still clenched in Harry's fist, Harry's now very bloody arm and Harry's pleading gaze.

"Harry," Percy spoke quietly, "how long has this been going on?"

At Harry's stubborn silence, Percy drew his wand and cleaned away the blood. With a few well-placed spells, he healed the newest cuts. Lighting his wand to get a better view, Percy then inspected Harry's arm for any serious damage. The pale crisscrossing from elbow to wrist told a tale of rage, guilt, of a pain so deep it blew away any lingering doubts about Harry, not that there had been much of any to begin with. Percy healed the hand Harry had used to hit the tree before meeting the kid's eyes, for that's what Percy saw when he looked at Harry. A kid. He may have been almost eighteen but Harry gave off the sense of a lost little child who had been kicked too many times, no knowing what to do, where to go, or how to act. Percy's heart went out to Harry. He couldn't imagine the kind of grief that would cause a person to do this. _Mum and Dad need to know this. Ginny, too. Maybe they can help._ Harry must have read something in his expression for he yanked away from Percy's grasp.

"You can't say anything. To anyone."

"The hell I can't! Harry, you need-,"

"What do you care? You've made it perfectly clear what you think of me. It's none of your damn business what I do!"

"Okay, yes, I deserved that once upon a time, Harry. I admit it and I'm not proud of it. But my entire family can't be wrong about you, can they? My _sister_ can't be wrong about you. She loves you, Harry and she wants to help you. We all do. We're family and family doesn't give up on each other."

Percy sighed, thought quickly. This went against what his instincts were telling him but he didn't want Harry disappearing again.

"I'll tell you what I will do. For the next few days, I'll keep silent on the condition that you tell someone about this before your next Healer appointment."

"Fine," Harry spat out before walking away, tugging at his shirtsleeves.

_Bollocks, I should have made him hand over that piece of glass. Why didn't I think of that before? Damn, I shouldn't have offered that agreement. Now what do I do? Someone needs to watch him and I'm not going to be here. I need some advice but who could I ask? I'll have to give it some thought._

Percy headed back to the house, thoughts racing, ideas forming and being discarded as he went.

Upon entering the house, Harry's gaze flitted from one person to the next before mumbling something about heading upstairs. With all the boys back under the same roof, Harry had assumed he'd be placed with Ron again and Mrs. Weasley confirmed it. He nodded vaguely in acknowledgment and disappeared. Once in Ron's room, he lie on the camp bed, back to the door and closed his eyes, though he didn't sleep. His thoughts were too manic in his head to allow sleep. Besides that, it was getting really dark out and Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept while the night was deep.

After a while, Ron came in, shuffled around and collapsed upon his bed. Loud snores signified the redhead had drifted off. Harry waited an hour before getting up. Opening the door, he listened intently for signs anyone was still up. Not hearing anything, he crept back downstairs, remembering to skip the squeaky steps. He silently slipped onto the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest, to wait out the dark. The house creaked and groaned as all houses tend to do. The _tick tock_ of a clock counted off the passing seconds. A few birds sang into the night while the scurrying of pastoral wildlife searching for any scrap of food reached his ears.

After his head jerked upward for the third time, Harry got up and wandered the room. _Can't fall asleep. Can't fall asleep. Only nightmares await me if I sleep now and I don't want to wake anyone. That's the last thing they need right now. _Harry whiled away the hours staring at photos, lightly touching artwork hanging over the fireplace from when the kids were young or just wandering the downstairs area, anything to keep the _other_ thoughts at bay.

Finally, as the sun began to chase away the blackness, Harry decided to go back to Ron's room before he was caught. Mrs. Weasley was an early riser and she was the last person he wanted to be caught by which, of course, meant she was the first person he saw.

"Harry, what are you doing up this early, dear?"

Harry stared at the woman who had given him so much, licked his lips and lied. "I just came down to get a drink of water. I'm heading back up now. I'll see you later."

And before she could say anything else, he hurried off. He was a terrible liar and he knew it. He just hoped she didn't pry. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the attic room without further incident. Slipping under the blankets of his bed, he rolled over and allowed sleep to take over.

Molly watched Harry practically run up the stairs. She had a sneaking suspicion he hadn't spoken the truth. Entering the kitchen and finding not a single used glass anywhere only confirmed what she was thinking. _What was he really doing down here? Had he even slept at all? I'm going to have to keep my eye on that boy. It would not do for him to waste away to nothing. I won't have it. What kind of victory would it be if he wasn't here to celebrate with us?_ Those thoughts brought Fred's image to mind and a few tears spilled onto her cheeks before she hastily wiped them away.

"Harry's still asleep. Shouldn't we wake him up? He's going to miss breakfast."

Molly glanced at her youngest son. She didn't feel as if it was her place to mention Harry's nighttime activity. She pasted a weak smile on her face.

"Just let him sleep, Ron. If anyone deserved to have a lie-in it would be Harry. Now eat before the food gets cold."

Molly caught Arthur's eye and both left the room. Arthur didn't have to go in to the Ministry until later that morning since he would be staying later than usual to help get things back to normal there. The two of them sat on the sofa.

"I know that look, Molly. What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," Molly wrung her hands, her eyes involuntarily glanced up the stairs, "When I came down to start breakfast, I passed him on the stairs. He said he'd come down for a drink but when I got to the kitchen, there wasn't a glass anywhere."

"Maybe he put it away."

"I don't think so, Arthur. It just didn't feel like an honest statement."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm not so sure he slept last night. Oh, I know he went up to Ron's room after dinner but I really don't think he got any sleep."

"Ron's in the kitchen, why don't we ask him?"

The two anxiously entered the kitchen. Ron was still stuffing his face.

"Ron, there's something we need to ask you."

Ron glanced between his parents and swallowed.

"Okay."

"Ron...did Harry...I mean...was Harry..." Molly trailed off.

"Did Harry sleep last night, Ron?"

Ron furrowed his brow and glanced at Bill, Charlie and Fleur before turning back to his father.

"He was when I went to bed. Why?"

Arthur smiled. "Oh, no reason, just checking."

Unsatisfied with that answer, Ron started to say something when Ginny and Hermione entered the room. Instead, he greeted the girls.

"Harry's not up, yet?" Ginny asked, taking stock of who sat around the table. "Maybe I should go wake him up."

"You'll do no such thing, young lady," came Molly's stern voice. "It wouldn't be proper for you to go waltzing into a boy's room like that. No telling what you might see or hear. Besides, that boy deserves the chance to sleep late so you just let him be."

Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm not naïve, Mum. I do have six older brothers. Don't you think I'd have learned something about boys by now?"

Instead of answering, tears silently slipped down her mother's face. Thinking back on what she'd said, Ginny grew pale. At one time, she _did_ have six older brothers but not anymore. Sniffling, she went over to her mum and enveloped her in a huge hug.

"I'm sorry, Mum," she whispered. "I didn't think."

"It's alright, Ginny," Molly replied with a watery smile. "We're all going to slip up occasionally. We'll just have to get used to it. As for Harry, I get the feeling he didn't sleep much last night, so we're just going to let him sleep as much as he needs to."

Sometime after lunch, Harry finally surfaced. He wandered downstairs in search of the others. He'd slept in his clothes and needed to retrieve some more if he was going to be staying at the Burrow. Peeking into the sitting room, he found Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George and Molly, who noticed him standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Harry! Sleep well? How about some lunch?"

"I'm okay, Mrs. Weasley, but thanks."

"Nonsense. You need to eat. How about I fix you some soup? That would be easy on your stomach."

Without waiting for an answer, the Weasley matriarch hopped up and headed for the kitchen. Harry just watched her a moment knowing full well there was no way he could talk her out of it. He turned back to greet the others only to find Ginny and Ron had gotten up and joined him. Ginny gave him a quick but tender hug and Ron patted Harry's shoulder.

"How you doing, mate?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm okay."

He then turned to greet George. The former twin stared at the three of them stonily before slipping passed them up the stairs and to his room, the door slamming shut. Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders drooping in dejection. Thinking to change the mood, Ron broke the awkward silence.

"Hey, we got Kreacher to bring you some clothes."

Astonished, Harry eyed his best mate. "How did you do that? I ordered him to Hogwarts. I didn't think he could follow another's orders."

"I called him, Harry," Ginny revealed quietly, shrugging. "It was worth a shot. We didn't want you to have to go back to that house so I called Kreacher. Guess he decided to see what I wanted. Anyway, they're over there."

Ginny pointed to a trunk by the front door. Relieved he was going to be able to get a shower, he rummaged around and found a change of clothes. Before he knew it, the long sleeved shirt he'd pulled out was stolen from him.

"How can you stand to wear this now, Harry?" Hermione asked. "It's broiling outside."

Harry snatched the shirt back. "Doesn't matter. You're not the one wearing it, now are you? Maybe I happen to like it?"

"That would be sudden," Hermione's voice taking on a bossy tone, "You've never shown this like for long sleeves in the summer before. I just can't figure out why the change of heart."

"I can't figure out how you got Kreacher to obey you."

"Who do you think told us how bad things were getting with you?"

Harry stared, dumbfounded, at Ron. _Kreacher?_ Harry didn't know whether to be angry or thankful. Yes, the elf had disobeyed a direct order. However, it brought him back to the Weasleys, which he was thankful for, wasn't he?

"I didn't think a house-elf could go against its master's wishes."

"Dobby did, mate," Ron quietly said.

Harry opened his mouth but snapped it shut after a second. Pain shot through him at the mention of the excitable elf. The annoying, exasperating, lovable, dear little elf gambled his life to save 'Harry Potter, sir' and paid with his life. Harry's vision blurred, the effort to breathe normally was great. A gentle touch on his arm brought him back to those gathered before him. He gave Ginny a watery smile.

"He followed you around awhile," Ginny continued the story. "When he realized you were getting worse instead of better, he came to us. He didn't say anything specific but just enough to make us realize you weren't doing well."

At first, Harry was livid that his orders had been disobeyed. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, face flushed with his anger. Unbidden, a vision of Kreacher leading an army of house-elves against Voldemort came to mind. His ire deflated so fast it left him a bit dizzy. Shaking the memory away, he sighed.

"Don't be angry with him, Harry," Hermione jumped in, noting his anger. "He did what he thought was right."

"I know. He still disobeyed me, though."

"Only to protect you. He was worried about you. And with good reason apparently."

Irritation mounting again, Harry hugged his clothes to him, mumbled about taking a shower and left. Ginny watched Harry hurry off and turned to the bushy-haired girl.

"Way to go, Hermione. You basically told him he was crazy."

"I did not. I just said that there was reason to worry. You can't deny it."

"I'm not trying to but I'm also not shoving it in his face, either."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Ron jumped in between them dragging Hermione away before Ginny decided to pull her wand. Ginny huffed and stomped up to her room, listening for the sounds of the shower and wondering, again, why Harry insisted on wearing such hot clothing. She assumed it had something to do with the war. _Perhaps more scars and he's afraid to show them but Ron and Hermione had come through their escapades fairly unscathed, not counting the few burn marks on their arms. Surely that's not it, is it? Bollocks, that boy can be so frustrating. I love him, though. I hope he understands that. I hope he knows he can talk to me without fear of me judging him or telling him what he should do._ _Hermione's right, though. There's definitely a good reason to worry._

Putting it aside for the moment, she sighed and went to apologize to her friend.

The next couple days were nearly carbon copies of that day. Harry spent the nights awake, slept in the following morning. He'd find the others and, invariably, George would stare at him and leave the room without a sound. Someone would comment about Harry's sudden aversion to summer clothing which would send Harry biting that person's head off or he'd walk sullenly away to brood. George's passive aggressiveness at meals began to eat away at any cheerful conversation anyone could find. Whenever Harry would start to smile, even just a little, George would throw out Fred's name or mention Remus and Tonks sending Harry to withdraw inside himself again and to excuse himself from the table, not returning until he was sure everyone had finished eating. More often than not, he headed outside. On more than one occasion, Harry caught Percy staring at his arms whenever he'd come back inside. Reflexively, Harry pulled his sleeves down a little more making absolutely sure they were as far down as they'd go.

It was a close call, one day, when Mrs. Weasley had gathered all the laundry and was beginning to load the washer. She picked up one of Harry's shirts and clucked her tongue at the long sleeves. _I don't know how that boy can stand these in this heat._ She started to toss it into the washer when something caught her eye. _What is this? _She scraped at the rust colored stain on the sleeve._ This looks like blood. Why on earth would there be blood on Harry's sleeves? I don't recall him having hurt himself._ She was still puzzling the matter out when Harry happened to walk by.

"Harry, dear!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly held up the stained sleeve, noting how pale Harry suddenly became.

"How did you get blood on your shirt?"

"I...er...I...um...I must have caught it on something outside. A tree branch or thorn bush or something."

To Molly's practiced ears and eyes, she knew Harry was lying but she didn't want to push so she pasted a smile on her face and nodded her acceptance of his explanation. She sighed as tears clouded her vision. _Something is going on with that boy. I just wish I knew what. How can we help him if he won't talk to us about it? I hope he opens up to someone soon. Maybe Healer Emenda can do what we've so far been unable to do. Guess it doesn't help with George acting out the way he's been. I think I need to have a talk with him. He's allowed to grieve, Merlin knows we all are, but I won't stand for him heaving all this on Harry. That boy's done enough for all of us, it's about time someone acknowledges that._

By the fourth evening meal, tempers were running high, tension was tying knots in the family. In George's eyes, everyone doted on the Chosen One. His mum kept mothering the kid. His father kept attempting to draw the Savior of the Wizarding World into conversation. His brothers, Hermione and Fleur remained silent and Ginny, her eyes rarely strayed from the 'Great One'. And Harry, well, he was eating it all up. Fed up, George stood to leave only to be halted by his father.

"Sit down, George. The meal isn't over. You're not leaving this table until the meal is over."

"I don't want to sit down and you can't make me. I'm not sitting at the same table as him. He ruined everything." George turned to stare into Harry's eyes. "You ruined EVERYTHING! And now you're trying to replace Fred. Well, you may have them wrapped around your finger but not me."

George made to leave again but Arthur stood and firmly spoke. "Sit. Down. George. We're not doing this anymore."

Harry stood, too. "It's okay, Mr. Weasley. I can go."

"Harry, don't you move, either," Arthur sternly responded to that.

Arthur, seeing Harry wasn't leaving, turned back to George.

"George, I know you're hurting, we all are, but Harry is NOT to blame for any of this. It was a war and those who fought knew the risks. If it weren't for Harry this family would have lost several members long before the war began in earnest. I, myself, wouldn't be here."

"There you go, sticking up for him again. He doesn't even act like it bothers him!" George turned to Harry. "Does it bother you? Does it bother you that so many good people were killed? That Teddy doesn't have any parents? That Colin is dead? That now I have to learn how to be one person instead of two? Huh? Does it bother you at all? Because it sure doesn't look that way!"

Before anyone else could speak, Percy jumped up, walked around the dinner table and met Harry's gaze.

"I'm sorry Harry but I have to do this."

Without any further warning, Percy grabbed Harry's left wrist in one hand and yanked the sleeve up as far as it would go, revealing the track marks left by Harry's 'glass moments'. The older ones had whitened while the newer ones were reddened and slightly puckered. Harry didn't dare meet anyone's gaze and so hung his head.

"You want to know if he's been affected, George? Here's your bloody proof. "

"Scars," George sneered. "It's not like he doesn't have any of those already."

"Granted but these are _self-inflicted_."

He looked around at all the shocked faces, letting that little tidbit sink in. He walked to Harry's other side and revealed Harry's other arm. More gasps, tears and horrified stares. After a moment, Percy spoke quietly. He'd noticed Harry had begun trembling, had seen the shame and embarrassment on the boy's face.

"You asked if it bothers him. Yes, George, it does. It bothers him so greatly that he's been punishing himself for all his perceived transgressions. And you heaping on the guilt trips aren't helping matters. It's a wonder Harry hasn't cut himself so badly to have lost the use of one or both arms, not to mention hitting a vital artery."

Percy turned his back on his family to look at Harry, whose eyes remained closed, head still bowed.

"Harry, you're not at fault here. You're family and you always will be."

Harry couldn't take any more. His stomach lurched and he dashed out the back door. Percy nodded to Ginny, who followed Harry. Then he turned back to George.

"Don't tear this family apart, George. Don't be me. This is the time when we need to lean on each other. We need to rely on each other to get through this. Fred wouldn't blame Harry. If you'd take a second and think about it, you'd know that. If he could, he'd tell you that he went out with a laugh, just like he'd always hoped he would."

"Those scars," George hesitantly asked, "they really self-inflicted?"

"Yes, they are. Unfortunately, I've seen firsthand proof."

"You WHAT?" Molly yelled, "You knew of this and didn't see fit to tell anyone? Percival Weasley, you'd better have a very good reason why or so help me I'll-."

"I thought it Harry's secret to reveal, Mum. I told him that he either told someone within the next few days or I would. He agreed to do it."

There really wasn't much to say after that. Through the open window, sounds of sickness, sobbing and soothing comfort could be heard. There wasn't a doubt who was sobbing and who was comforting. Percy gave George one final look before regaining his chair and picking up his fork.

George, completely struck speechless, remained standing. He thought, really thought, about all he'd heard and his face crumpled, mirroring the agony within. He dropped into his chair, leaned over and cried into his hands. All this time he'd been so wrong.

_I should have known better. I've known Harry for years. I know how he can get when something happens that he thinks he should have been able to prevent. He was always good at taking guilt that didn't belong to him. How many times have I seen him, after Cedric's death, get yelled at by some student and he'd just stand there and take it as if he deserved it. Oh, Merlin, what have I done? Fred, you have to help me. You were always the one with the appropriate words. I need your help now. I have go out there and apologize to Harry. _

George stood up but was stopped by Arthur. "Where are you going, son?"

"I need to go speak to Harry. I've been so wrong about everything. I need to see if he can forgive me."

Arthur nodded his head and let his second youngest son go. The Weasley patriarch turned to the remaining family around the table.

"Perhaps it's best if we retired to the sitting room until things have settled."

The family silently left the kitchen affording those outside some privacy.

Having her arms around him elicited two conflicting emotions in Harry. As he sat against the outside wall of the Burrow, his head resting on Ginny's shoulder, one of her hands soothingly running through his hair, the other rubbing his back, Harry couldn't help think how good it felt to be held by her again but he also couldn't help thinking he didn't deserve her and wished she wasn't so nice to him. His tears having finally dried up, he continued to sniffle.

"I'm so sorry, Gin. You don't deserve to have your family split again. I should just go."

"Don't go," a voice softly whispered from somewhere over Ginny's head.

He felt Ginny tense. He was so weary of the fighting. He just didn't have the strength for it anymore so he didn't bother looking up to see who had come outside.

"What do you want, George. Haven't you done enough already?"

Ginny's cold voice hurt George. She'd never spoken to him or Fred in such a manner. Her voice was so cold, George shivered as if a Dementor had suddenly floated by.

"I know I deserved that. I was hoping to talk to Harry a second."

Every muscle in Harry's body tensed. Ginny continued to rub his back and stare at George.

"I'm not leaving Harry so whatever you want to say, say it."

"Fair enough." George cleared his throat. "Harry, I was so wrong about everything. I should have known better. I've known you for years. I should have trusted what I knew about you. I didn't. I let my grief cloud my judgment and I hurt you. I'll never forgive myself for that but I'm hoping, someday, you can. Listen to me, Harry. _You are NOT to blame for the losses of the light._ Moldyshorts is. That's where the blame belongs. You saved us all. I'll never be able to understand how you could do what you did but I'm thankful and I'm not going to let their deaths be cheapened in any way by alienating myself from this family. Now, more than ever, we need to be able to rely on each other to get each other through."

George shrugged. "Well, anyway, that's what I wanted to say."

George turned and started back to the house. Before he reached the door, a voice reached out to him in the darkness.

"George? I think I can forgive you. It may take some time, though. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about Fred."

George's shoulders drooped in relief. Without turning, George sent his reply over his shoulder.

"It's okay, Harry. I understand. Thank you."

With that, he opened the door an returned to the family who he'd severely disappointed and vowed to make it up to each and every one of them, somehow.

Ginny continued to sit with Harry until he was ready to go inside. She didn't speak of the scars on Harry's arms. She knew he'd talk when he was ready and she'd be there. She believed the talk with George would go a long way in healing some other wounds. They were finally on the right track toward happiness.


	11. Maybe Someday We'll Figure All This Out

_**Try to put an end to all our doubt**_

_**Try to find a way to make things better now**_

"Stop, stop, stop, _stop_! When are you going to get it through that bloody thick skull of yours, Hermione, that I. Don't. Want. To. Talk!"

Harry stood in the backyard, sun baking everything in its path, facing the bushy haired girl who had, for days now, been trying to get him to talk about his feelings. Currently, his green eyes blazed down at the girl. His jaw clenched tight against some of the things threatening to spill from his mouth.

"But, Harry-,"

"_Oh bugger me!_" Harry swore under his breath before continuing aloud. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, leave it alone! _Shite!"_

"We're your friends, Harry. We just want to help."

"You want to help? Then _let me be_!"

Harry turned and stalked off towards the forest that concealed the makeshift the Quidditch pitch the Weasleys used. _Why can't she understand? Why does she have to talk about __**everything**__? I don't need to be analyzed by her. Isn't that what the bloody Healer is for? I'm so sick of her pathological need to discuss everything._

Ever since his darkest secret, his cutting tendency, had been revealed, everyone walked on eggshells around him. They were forever sending him these looks that he wasn't sure how to interpret. They were so anxiously solicitous it was turning him into a nutter. And then there's Hermione. The girl just wouldn't shut up. Every time they were in the same room together, she'd start in. It all was really beginning to grate on his nerves and he snapped at them all. Every little thing set him off; he just couldn't seem to help it. It was like fifth year all over again.

So, to save any hurt feelings, he'd taken to walking the Weasley's property. He'd walk, alone, ranting to himself about how life was now treating him. Often it was during these times he'd pull out his flask or his glass shard to relieve the pressure, to take back control of _something_ in his life.

He walked around the faux quidditch pitch, kicking any stone he found. The longer he strode around the clearing, the calmer he became. Sighing, he sat against a tree, arms crossed against his chest. _Why didn't I just die with the rest of them? Why did I survive? Is this life? Is this what it's going to be like for me? What's the point of living when all you feel is pain? I've done nothing but cause people pain my entire life. Why the hell did I come back here? I never __should have. I should have left them alone to get on with their lives._

Against his will, his eyes began to water. With thumb and forefinger, Harry pressed on his eyes to help push down the emotions. He wasn't going to cry. He was going to keep his emotions in check like he'd always done. After a few moments of deep breathing, he'd managed to shove it all back down where it belonged. He lingered awhile longer before deciding he'd better head back. Lunch would be ready soon and he really didn't want anyone to start looking for him. Bracing himself for the inevitable looks and awkward conversations that always took place with him around, Harry entered the Burrow's kitchen.

"Oh, Harry, dear," Molly started upon Harry's entrance. "I was just about to have someone go looking for you to tell you lunch was about ready."

While trying to appear that she wasn't looking, she stole a glance at his shirtsleeves. She'd heard Harry and Hermione arguing earlier and had seen Harry stalking off towards the trees. She knew Hermione meant well, but she didn't think pushing Harry was the way to get him to open up, either.

Harry noticed her glance and his jaw clenched. Everyone, except for Arthur and Percy, were present and he'd noticed all of them stealing glances at him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to push away his anger though it was far from easy. Plastering a slight smile on his face, he sat at the table.

Enduring the looks were one of the toughest things he'd had to endure. More than once, he thought someone was going to say something only to have the person decide against it. Like a guitar string, tension was high. He felt as if one wrong move would snap the string causing a very painful backlash. After eating precious little, Harry excused himself saying he needed a nap.

Molly watched the boy disappear and heard his steps clomping up the stairs.

"I don't know what to do for him. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless."

"If only he'd just talk to us."

"Hermione," Ron piped up, "when has Harry _ever_ talked to us? He's not one to share his thoughts easily, you know that."

"I know, Ron, but it's killing him. We can all see it. He'd feel better if he'd talk to us."

Ginny stared at the girl. She couldn't believe Hermione had known Harry for so long and still didn't seem to understand him at all.

"You pushing him every time he turns around isn't helping, either."

Hermione turned to the younger girl, indignant.

"Well, you know I'm right. At least I'm _trying_ something."

Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You say you love him and yet I haven't seen you once try to get him to talk about things. What a way to show you care."

"I do care, Hermione," Ginny's voice turning nasty, "more than you'll ever know. But here's the thing. I know him better than you. I know when to push and when not to. Right now, I see you pushing and I see, as plainly as his green eyes, what it's doing to him. You're pissing him off and he's pushing further and further away!"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but Molly intervened. "ENOUGH! I won't have this kind of talk going on. This family needs to support each other, not tear each other down. Hermione, I know you mean well, but perhaps you should try backing off for awhile."

Hermione huffed her annoyance but agreed to let it go for now. Molly nodded and turned to her daughter.

"Ginny, you need to apologize to Hermione for how you talked to her. She's concerned for Harry just as much as the rest of us."

"Sorry, Hermione," Ginny grumbled.

"It's okay. You probably _do _know him better than any of us."

Lunch continued solemnly following that outburst.

Hghghg

"You're quiet today."

Healer Emenda sat in one of the armchairs across from Harry. She could tell the young man had had a bad week just by the way he carried himself, tense and ready to flee. A healthy dose of anger mixed with the tension created another possibly volatile situation. She watched as Harry merely shrugged in answer to her statement.

"Don't feel like talking today?" Again, Harry shrugged. "I don't mind sitting here so whenever you're ready."

She sat and patiently waited. She'd had lots of experience with patients who refused to talk. Usually, if the silence went on long enough, it made the patient uncomfortable and the patient would start talking just to fill it. As stubborn as she knew Harry to be, Emenda knew a lot of silence was going to be needed.

The _scratch scratch_ of quill on parchment as Emenda wrote out some notes loud in the ensuing silence, both parties sat, one totally comfortable with the quiet, the other quite obviously aggravated by it. The sound grew loud in Harry's ears as he remembered another _scratch scratch_ sound. This one made by a traitorous rat in a cage.

Thoughts of this particular rat reminded Harry of Cedric's death.

_Avada Kedavra!_

Cedric's death reminded Harry of Voldemort's rebirth.

_My wand, Wormtail._

Naturally, this memory brought forth the battle in the Department of Mysteries and Sirius' death.

_It's too late. He's gone._

One by one, deaths of those he'd cared for paraded through his mind, mocking him with their clarity. He could hear the flat-toned voice of Snape uttering the words that killed Dumbledore. He could see the knife sticking out of a once energetic Dobby's chest as the light of life left the green tennis ball eyes forever. He could still feel upon his skin debris from the collapsing wall that had taken the life of Fred Weasley. He could still taste the blood he'd drawn to keep from crying out in the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack when Snape had been murdered. The smell of the dusty carpet in Dumbledore's office when he'd learned the entire truth, what he had needed to do in order to guarantee Voldemort's demise, tickled Harry's nose. His heart pounded in his chest just as it did then. He felt the terror wash over him anew as it had while lying on that office floor and contemplating his death.

"I had to die," Harry whispered with a strangled voice. "I had to. It was the only way. I never meant for anyone else to die. I was too late. Too late. Too late..."

"Harry, you're okay," Healer Emenda spoke calmly. "You're not there anymore. Come on back to me, now."

She hadn't noticed anything wrong at first. Then when his breathing had become audible, she glanced up to find her patient in a full-blown flashback. Immediately kneeling in front of Harry, she firmly gripped one of his hands and placed her other hand against his face, caressing him softly. His tortured words broke her heart but she didn't allow herself to dwell on them. He brought his knees up to his chest, momentarily dislodging her.

Conjuring a bin, wet cloth and glass of water, she them aside before returning to her position of holding onto Harry and speaking softly and calmly.

"You're safe now, Harry. It's all over. Come on back so I can prove it to you. Let it go and come on home, now."

Suddenly, Harry's clear gaze bore into her compassionate one and she knew he'd returned to the present. An instant later, his eyes widened in alarm. Shoving the bin towards Harry, she backed away but was careful to keep a hand on his back. When certain he had finished, she banished the bin and proceeded to wash away the sweat from his face before giving him a drink.

"Go easy with the water at first."

Satisfied he could hold the glass on is own, Emenda returned to her seat. After a few seconds worth of silence except the ice in Harry's glass, he sighed.

"Guess you want to talk about that."

"Do you?"

Another sip of the cold liquid went down before Harry answered.

"I probably should, I guess."

He had yet to look her in the eye since he'd 'returned'. Emenda perused the young man in front of her a moment. His pallor was frightful. Death warmed over was how she'd describe him but she'd expect him to look bad after what he'd just relived. It was his wan complexion prior to that that bothered her.

"Harry, are you sleeping?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging. _Just not at night._

"Are you eating?"

He nodded. _Some. When I can keep it down. Merlin, what I wouldn't give for a drink right now. I hope this doesn't last much longer._

Noting Harry's nervously bouncing knee and the way one of his hands toyed with a small, somewhat rectangular object in one of his pockets, the Healer took a shot in the dark.

"Needing something?"

"Yeah, a drink," Harry belligerently replied.

The woman tilted her head, studying the young man before her. Something significant had happened this past week; she was sure of it. The problem was getting Harry to admit what it was. She watched his fingers trace the outline of what she was sure was a flask in his pocket. Deciding on a different tact, she tried pushing slightly.

"Go ahead," she encouraged him, gesturing at his pocket.

"What?"

It was so unexpected, it stopped the bouncing knee and drew Harry's eyes to hers, disbelief all over his face.

"I said go ahead. You want to. No one can tell you that you can't."

"I thought you're supposed to tell me how wrong it is."

"Oh, come now, Harry. Only you can decide what's in your best interest. Only you can decide what's right for you."

She watched as he studied her the briefest of moments before pulling out the small flask and enlarged it. His shaking hands made it more difficult than it should have been. His tongue darted out and wet his lips as he quickly unscrewed the cap. At this point, he hesitated.

"What's wrong? I'd have thought you'd have had that gone by now."

She could see the battle in his eyes. Should he or shouldn't he? It may have been only their second meeting but what he did next would be setting the tone for the next few meetings to come. She watched as his arm slowly raised the container.

Hghg

Harry slowly raised the flask. He wanted that drink and yet he dreaded taking it. He could taste the heat of the firewhiskey and hated that he could. His nostrils flared as the alcoholic fumes reached his nose, burning his nasal passages. A bludger sized lump formed in his throat that he couldn't seem to swallow. His stomach churned in anticipation. The silver flask was nearly to his lips when he stopped its progress and stared at it. _Why not just take the bloody drink and be done with it? You know you want it. You need it. There's no fighting the need. Who cares what anyone says or thinks? The Healer's right. It's your choice and __yours alone to make._

With a shaking hand, he closed the gap between the mouth of the flask and his own lips. Greedily, he drank a few swallows. In mid-drink, his hand lashed out, throwing the little flask across the room where it clanked loudly against the wall, spraying its contents along the way with a final hurrah upon contact. Shame and disgust at his weakness warred for dominance inside as he sat on the couch, elbow propped on his knee, forehead resting in his hand. His other hand, clenched tightly, rested on his other leg.

"Feel better, Harry? Did it work?"

Harry didn't move but spoke quietly.

"You know it didn't."

"What? I couldn't hear that."

Harry's head whipped up to meet her eyes, self-loathing written all over his face, his jaded eyes flashing a warning, one she chose to ignore. He was on the brink of learning an important lesson and she wasn't about to back down. It's what he wanted and perhaps was hoping for.

"What did you say, Harry?"

"I SAID IT DIDN'T, ALRIGHT? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?"

In a flash, Harry was up and pacing like a cornered dragon about to spew flames. He mumbled to himself for all of a minute before turning on his Healer.

"What the bloody hell do you want from me? Who do you think you are coming here and telling me what I should and shouldn't feel, what I should and shouldn't be thinking and doing? Then you goad me into taking a drink and practically berate me for doing it! What _else_ do you want from me? Do you want me to bleed for you? I can do that, too!"

Harry fished his glass piece from his pocket, pulled up his left sleeve and slashed violently, drawing crimson lines on his already scarred arm.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Emenda stowed her wand and bolted toward Harry. Carefully, but firmly, she confiscated the sliver of glass and pocketed it. Next, she healed the cuts and cleaned the blood from his arm. Bracing herself for the coming backlash, she removed the jinx.

"Give it back." Harry's voice was deadly calm.

"No, I don't think I will."

"Give. It. Back. Now!"

Harry pulled his wand and pointed it with deadly accuracy at her throat, hand quivering, eyes flashing wildly. His chest rose and fell erratically. Sweat beaded on his forehead, occasionally trickled down from his temple.

Emenda forced herself to remain absolutely still. Harry was very close to total panic now and she knew one fast move would be dire. Talking would be the only way out of this situation. Taking a deep fortifying breath, she began to talk her patient out of the hysteria he seemed to have dipped into.

"Harry, look at me. You're not going to hurt me. I know that and you know it, too."

"You don't know anything. You don't know me," he growled.

"I do know you," she continued in the calmest voice she could. "You're a loving person whose selfless acts have put you in a position no one should be in. You care about people, plain and simple. That's why you're having the trouble that you are. You love, you've been hurt because of it and you don't know how to stop the hurt. But I do, Harry. I can help you if you let me. Lower your wand and let me help."

Harry's eyes cleared and widened at the site of his wand pointed at the Healer's throat. Stumbling backward against the wall, throwing his wand as he did so, he slid down to sit on the floor, legs drawn up, arms around them. His forehead rested on his knees.

"What am I doing? I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Harry. I know you had no intention of doing that."

Emenda sat in front of the closed-off teen. She wanted to hug him but knew that wouldn't be accepted so instead she reached out and touched his arm briefly, noting his flinch at the contact.

"Harry, how long has the cutting been going on?"

Harry tensed and remained silent so long she didn't think she'd get a response. However, he proved her wrong when he mumbled out an answer.

"Don't remember. Awhile."

"What are you thinking when you do it?" Her voice held no condemnation.

Harry shrugged. "That I can't take it anymore. The pain. The pressure. It builds up inside and I can't seem to help it."

"And then after? What do you feel when it's done?"

"Relief. Disgust at having given in, like I'm weak and a coward."

Nodding in thought, she sat a moment. An idea formed quickly in her mind and she jumped up.

"Harry, wait here for just a second. I have a Floo call to make."

After clearing it with the Weasleys, she hurried to the hearth, threw in a bit of Floo powder and stuck her head into the emerald flames. Merely a minute later, she pulled her head back out and entered the kitchen, where several Weasleys sat around the table.

"I'm taking Harry out visiting. Just wanted you to know."

Molly stared at the woman as if she'd lost her mind.

"Are you sure that's wise? I really don't think he's ready for that."

"Not to mention any publicity that might come of it," Ginny added.

"Don't worry. Where we're going is a Muggle residence. I had it hooked up temporarily to the Network. No Daily Prophet reporters in sight. I understand your hesitations but I believe this will help even more than I can. He needs to hear what others think of him."

Everyone sitting at the table opened their mouths to respond but Emenda held out a hand to stop the rush of words.

"I know you all tell him and that's good. Keep it up. I may call on each of you later on during a session but right now he needs to know what those outside this group thinks of him. I can't say more so please don't ask. Just trust me."

The family traded glances and Mentalia could tell a whole conversation was held with each glance. When each of them nodded their acceptance, she returned to Harry.

"Come on, Harry. There's someone I'd like for you to talk to."

"What?"

"Trust me."

Mentalia held her breath wondering if he'd take that necessary step. She smiled to herself when he finally nodded and stood.

"We're going to Apparate so hold onto my arm."

Once he'd done so, they disappeared from the Burrow and reappeared in an alley behind a modest brick home. The home sat in a slightly run-down neighborhood. A wood fence delineated a backyard on the smallish side. Walking around to the front, they could see paint peeling on the porch awning and window shutters.

"Where are we?"

"You'll see."

Emenda rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a tiny, mousy-brown haired boy. The boy took one look at his visitor and yelped, eyes lighting up when previously they had been dulled by sadness.

"Hiya, Harry! It's good to see you! Come in! It's just me right now. Dad's out."

Harry stood frozen to his spot, staring at Dennis Creevey with a mix of dread, anguish, and guilt. A gentle push from the woman beside him, forced him into the house. His heart began to race and he licked his lips. He glanced at his Healer in desperation but she all but told him he had to face the boy. He tried to swallow past the bludger that seemed to have lodged in his throat.

The three sat in the sitting room with mediocre furniture. The walls were covered, however, by framed photographs. Some Harry recognized as Colin's work from the now-deceased teen's first year. His vision swam as he fought the tears threatening to fall. In his mind's eye, he could see Neville and Oliver carrying Colin's body back to the castle.

First one, then two tears leaked from Harry's haunted eyes. He turned his guilt-stricken gaze in Dennis' direction.

"I'm so sorry, Dennis. I never meant for Colin to die. He should have stayed away like he was supposed to."

"Harry, you know that there's no way Colin would have done that. He told us that it was time to fight for what we believed in, to stand up for ourselves and others. He believed he was doing the right thing."

"Only because of what I told him. Those are _my_ words. That's exactly what I told the DA during our meetings. He died because of me and I feel so bad that I didn't act sooner."

By now, a river of tears streamed unchecked down Harry's face. Dennis watched the older boy whom he and his brother had idolized. To say he was shocked by what Harry was saying was an understatement. Here was the Savior of the Wizarding World, someone who should be happy that it was all over, someone who _deserved_ to be happy and yet he obviously wasn't. He heard the loathing in Harry's voice and couldn't understand it. Harry had done the best he could and succeeded! He'd done more than anyone could have asked of him.

"But, Harry," Dennis spoke quietly but deliberately, "because of you, Colin knew how to defend himself. Because of you, he _could_ fight for what he believed in. Because of you, he didn't feel helpless or useless, neither of us did and I'll forever thank you for that. You taught us that standing up for what was right is the most important thing we could ever do. Colin wouldn't want you to feel upset and neither do I. We don't blame you, Harry. How could we? The only thing you did was to give us the tools we needed to fight. You _saved_ us all, Harry."

"Not all."

"Well, no, but it was war, Harry and one thing I've learned about studying Muggle wars is that there's fatalities. Always. Not just soldiers but innocent people, too. There's sacrifices made. We just have to learn not to belittle those sacrifices. No one escapes from war unharmed, Harry. Not even soldiers and you're not even that. More like a toy soldier."

"What?"

"You weren't trained to be a soldier or Auror and yet you still fought. You did what a lot of people wouldn't or couldn't do. Toy soldiers."

Harry stared disbelievingly at the younger boy. Could it be true? Could this kid truly _not_ blame him, Harry, for the death of his brother? Everything Dennis said made sense, logically. He'd been so afraid of what others had thought of him. For some reason, more afraid of what Dennis would think of him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he and Colin had shadowed Harry their first couple years at school. The thought that just maybe he'd been wrong brought more tears to Harry's eyes.

Swallowing painfully, he whispered, "How do you know all this?"

Dennis smiled wistfully. "My mum worked with the police. She was killed when Colin and I were young. What I told you is pretty much what dad told us. It wasn't until later that we understood what he meant."

"Thanks, Dennis. I appreciate it. More than you know."

Mentalia nodded her thanks to Dennis as well.

"Well, we should get you back to the Burrow, Harry. I'm sure everyone is anxious to see you again. Dennis, thanks for letting us come visit."

"Sure, no problem. Harry, you're welcome here any time. Maybe next time you come, Dad will be here and can thank you himself, too."

Harry shrugged, a little uncomfortable with anyone's thanks. He wasn't sure he deserved any but he'd definitely been given something to think about. After bidding Dennis good-bye, he and Mentalia walked back around the house to the alley, glanced around them then disappeared.

They returned back into the garden at the Burrow. Harry's Healer turned to her patient.

"So, what do you think about our visit?"

"He didn't blame me," Harry spoke, voice full of wonder.

"No, he didn't. Even invited you back."

The two walked over to a large oak tree. With a wave of her wand, the Healer conjured a long cylindrical bag Harry had seen Dudley use for boxing practice tied to a low hanging branch. Then she conjured a pair of boxing gloves and helped him put them on.

"Now, Harry, I have something I'd like you to try. Whenever you start to feel overwhelmed, come out here and use this. Well, give it a go."

Harry punched it halfheartedly.

"Oh, come now. You can do better than that, surely."

Another punch, a little harder than the first.

"Am I going to have to show you how it's done, Harry?"

Irritated, Harry punched the bag. Hard. At his Healer's approval, he did so again. And again. Tears spilled over as he thought about what Dennis had said. He thought about the others who had died and the punches came furiously. Curses and cries flew from his lips at those whom he'd loved and lost. Minutes passed and he continued abusing the bag for all he was worth until he finally collapsed to his knees, crying freely.

"Now those emotions have a healthy outlet, Harry. Don't bottle them up. Don't be embarrassed if you suddenly feel like crying, either. Now that your feelings are close to the surface, they're going to escape. Just let them go."

Harry nodded, sniffling and swiping at his uncontrollable tears.

The Healer patted his knee before standing.

"Well, I'm going now. I'll see you next week unless you need me before then. Don't hesitate to Floo me. Remember what I said about giving your emotions free reign. I'll go say good-bye to the Weasleys."

Leaving the boy in peace, she couldn't help feeling he may have turned a corner today. She was carefully optimistic as she knew just as easily he could be right back where they started when she visited next week. Perhaps some visiting was just what he needed.

She stepped into the Weasley filled kitchen and was immediately assaulted with questions. She held up a hand to stem the flow so she could address them.

"I believe it may have actually helped him to go visit the person we saw. I can't say whom it was so please don't ask. Suffice it to say, this person reiterated to Harry exactly what you all have been telling him. I've given him a way to express himself harmlessly. Out underneath your giant oak tree, I've conjured something Muggles use often to exercise with. It's called a punching bag. Whenever, Harry's feeling overwhelmed, he's to go out there and deal with his feelings by punching the bag. I'd suggest not bothering him when he's out there."

She looked at each of those present in the eye to make sure they were listening before continuing.

"His apt to be extremely moody while out there. Even when he's not, his emotions are bound to be all over the place. A mention of the tiniest thing, could send him into a temper or break him down into tears. Try not to let this bother you. Better yet, don't tiptoe around him. Snap back if he snaps at you but don't treat him any different. No patronizing, no forcing conversation, no teasing. If he suddenly bursts into tears, acknowledge it and move on. Just continue doing what you have been doing."

"Thanks, Mentalia," said Bill, gratefully.

"Hey, he's doing all the work, remember. He's getting there, though."

She bid them good-bye and disappeared through the Floo. Everyone gathered at the table glanced around at each other but before anyone could speak, the back door opened and Harry walked in, looking exhausted, eyes bloodshot and tear tracks obvious on his face.

"Harry, dear, you look tired. Why don't you head on upstairs? Are you hungry at all?"

"Um, I _am_ kind of tired, Mrs. Weasley but I wanted to say something first."

He looked around at the family, _his_ family. He cleared his throat and swallowed the bludger that suddenly appeared again.

"I just wanted to apologize to everyone for everything I've put you all through."

His eyes met and held with Bill then Charlie and lastly with Ginny.

"I want to thank you for what you've done for me. I have some problems that I know I need to deal with and I'm working on them. Just be patient with me."

"You don't have to thank us, son," Arthur spoke as he stood and embraced the troubled youth. "It's what families do."

Hearing that brought tears to Harry's eyes once again and one escaped before he had the chance to swipe it. He sniffled his thanks. Turning to Molly, he hugged her. She'd been the mother he'd never had and even now didn't disappoint. One hand rubbed his back while her other ran along the back of his head and neck, slowly rocking him side to side. It was obvious to everyone he was weeping.

After a couple minutes, he pulled back, swiped at his tears, sniffled and stared at the floor.

"Actually, Mrs. Weasley, I'm kind of hungry."

"Well, then," Molly smiled a watery smile. "Let's take care of that, shall we?"


	12. When It's Good

_**When it's good, then it's good, it's so good...**_

Harry tried to sleep, he really did but it was full dark, his heart was pounding and he just new his nightmares were waiting to seize him again the instant he was asleep. Not for the first time, Harry thanked his lucky stars that his best mate slept so soundly. Sighing, he slipped out of bed and down the stairs to the sitting room where he sat on the sofa staring out the window. After his emotional day, he'd have thought it would have been easy to fall asleep but he just couldn't force himself to sleep. Weary to the bone, he wished he could escape into slumber. His eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep.

"Harry?" asked a surprised whisper.

Harry jumped and turned to the owner of the voice. Arthur Weasley came into view, a teacup in hand. Harry looked away from the man's lined face. He couldn't face the man he considered a father figure.

"Hi, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur sat next to Harry on the sofa. He could see something was bothering the youth. Reaching out, he gently lay his hand upon the boy's shoulder noting the involuntary muscle twitch when his hand made contact.

"What's wrong, Son?"

The gentle inquiry did him in. Harry could feel the wall holding back his emotions breaking again. Fat tears spilled onto his cheeks. He tried to speak but nothing would come out. He just sat and tried to stop the tears but, the harder he tried, the more that fell. Suddenly engulfed in the man's arms, Harry allowed himself to cry on the eldest Weasley's shoulder. It seemed all he could do anymore. When his Healer had said his emotions would be close to the surface, she wasn't kidding. He certainly hadn't expected this.

"I'm so tired, Mr. Weasley," he sobbed, his voice almost too muffled to understand. "Tired of the dreams, tired of thinking I should have done more, tired of questioning why I lived and so many others didn't. I never thought it would be so hard to live. I can't sleep when it's dark. I'm too scared to and I hate it. I'm such a coward."

"Son, you are NOT a coward," Arthur gently but firmly replied.

He placed one hand at the nape of the young man's neck while the other hand gently rubbed Harry's back. He felt his own eyes water at the outpouring of anguish and didn't even try to hide it. He knew Harry needed this, needed to grieve for those who'd been lost. Arthur was just glad he was there to help.

"To do what you did, Harry, facing Voldemort like that, it took a lot of courage. Not everyone would have been willing to do so. I never want to hear you call yourself a coward again. It's hard to lose those we love, I know, but it WILL get better. There's no rhyme or reason when it comes to war, no understanding. We just have to learn to deal with it, to move on. It's the only way to honor the memory of the fallen."

No more words were exchanged but none were needed. The two continued to grieve, one for all the losses suffered, the other for the one who was slowly coming back to life. A long time later, tears finally spent, Harry bit back a yawn. Drowsily, he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Why don't you try to sleep, Harry? You'll feel much better after."

"I can't sleep now. It's dark. The darkness always brings the nightmares. There's not much point in trying."

"I'll stay with you," the Weasley patriarch said soothingly, "I won't let anything happen."

Arthur heard Harry yawn again and knew the boy was just about out. He continued speaking softly, reassuringly, like he had when his own children had been terrified when young. Within seconds of this treatment, he felt Harry slump against his chest. Carefully maneuvering around, he lay Harry out on the couch, covering him with a light blanket. True to his word, he pulled up an easy chair next to the sofa to be in easy reach in case he was needed.

Arthur shook his head sadly. He could only guess at what kind of demons plagued the boy before him to keep him awake at night. It still boggled his mind how much Harry had endured without totally cracking. Yes, he had issues but who wouldn't after living with people who belittled you your entire life. To go through all of that and still care enough about people to confront the Darkest Wizard of all time, it just blew his mind.

"Lily, James," Arthur whispered, "You'd have been proud of him. I give you my word I will look after him for you. He's been a precious gift to us. I'm honored to act as any kind of father figure in your place, James."

For a few minutes, he sat and watched the boy sleep before getting comfortable in his chair and drifting off himself.

"_No. No, please. Not Ginny. Take me instead."_

Arthur instantly woke. Harry twitched and mumbled in his sleep, soaked in sweat, breath coming in harsh gasps. Leaning over, he gently shook Harry.

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to die. Please forgive me."_

Arthur shook him a little harder. "Harry, come on, son, wake up. You're okay. It's over."

Harry woke in a flash. He sat up away from the man and attempted to gather himself. He kept his eyes down not daring to look the man he'd admired for so long in the eye. He was too embarrassed at being caught having one of his myriad nightmares, dreams that were, for him, the norm. A glass of water appeared under his nose and he took it gratefully. While he sipped at the ice cold liquid, he waited for Arthur to speak but there was only silence. It was in that moment Harry realized where Ginny got her silent strength, her intuition. Oh, she could be hot-tempered like her mum but her ability to sit quietly and just _be_ came from this man.

"I'm sorry," Harry started.

"Harry, never apologize for your dreams. Your mind is still processing everything. It'll take awhile but those fears will fade."

Harry nodded and downed the last of the water. "You don't have to stay, Mr. Weasley. You've got to be tired with everything you've been doing at the Ministry lately."

"Harry, I told you I'd stay with you and I meant it. Try to relax. How about I tell you some stories about when the kids were young?"

Wearily nodding again, Harry collapsed back onto the couch and settled in, allowing Arthur's soft soothing voice to lull him back to sleep.

"...and then the two of them..." Arthur stopped, smiling. He didn't figure it was going to take long.

Settling back in his chair, he noted the time before drifting off to sleep again.

Ooooooo

"Arthur?" a voice whispered

Arthur woke quickly. He glanced at the sleeping form of his seventh son before turning to the owner of the voice that had startled him.

"Molly? What time is it?"

"It's five o'clock. Is everything okay?"

Arthur again glanced at Harry. Sometime during the night, the teen had rolled onto his stomach, arm dangling off the couch. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, stretching out the kinks from sitting in that chair all night. Then he led Molly into the kitchen.

"He hasn't been sleeping at night. Did you know that?"

"I wondered. He certainly didn't look like he's been sleeping much."

"I came down to get a drink and found him on the couch. He admitted to me that he was afraid to sleep at night because of his nightmares. I'm guessing he's just afraid to sleep at all. He actually believes himself to be a coward. Can you believe that? After everything he's done?"

"Oh, the poor dear. I wish we could give him some Dreamless Sleep Potion but it's still too risky, his mental state too fragile. Then there's the addictive properties of the potion to consider."

"I know, Molly. We did some talking, some grieving. He got really tired so I told him I'd stay with him if he wanted to sleep. I did have to wake him up once. I don't know what he was dreaming but it had something to do with Ginny. I managed to get him back to sleep by telling him stories about the kids when they were little."

"We'll just keep doing what we've been doing. He's getting better already. He's opening up and, from what I've seen and heard, that's something to celebrate."

"It is, isn't it?" Molly asked with a watery smile. "Well, I should start breakfast."

ooooooooo

As he ate breakfast, Arthur periodically glanced into the sitting room to check on Harry. So far, the boy appeared to be sleeping soundly. He'd already slept through the comings and goings of Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George. When Arthur heard the loud clomping that could only signal his youngest son coming down the stairs, Arthur actually got up and met Ron at the bottom.

"Ron, keep it down. Harry had a rough night last night. He's sacked out on the couch right now."

"Oh. He's usually in bed when I wake up. I had wondered."

Father and son quietly slipped into the kitchen. Ron immediately began filling a plate to overflowing. Noticing his father's raised eyebrows, Ron flushed.

"What? After all those months of barely eating anything, I can't help it. I feel like I'm never going to get full."

"So you're back to normal, then," quipped Ginny as she and Hermione entered the kitchen.

Ginny grabbed a couple plates and proceeded to fill them both. She glanced around and shrugged at her parents' smiles, Ron's bugged eyes, and Hermione's smirk.

"Well, someone has to save Harry a plate before Ron eats it all."

The look of relief on Ron's face was way more than was warranted. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her brother.

"What? Did you think I was going to eat it all? I'm not a pig like you."

"Hey!" cried Ron, rather loudly.

"Alright, that's enough," interjected Molly, "and keep your voice down. If you wake up Harry, Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will find yourself regretting it in the worst way."

Everyone froze and listened for any sounds of stirring from the sitting room but none came. Breathing a sigh of relief, the five of them sat and finished breakfast.

Oooooooo

And so it went for Harry. Nights were spent with someone watching over him as he slept, usually Arthur, and days were spent lounging around, learning how to relax again. Many times he felt overwhelmed and had to punch through the feelings, after which he'd feel lighthearted to the point of giddiness. He smiled more and the smiles began to reach his eyes. More and more, Harry's green eyes were the brilliant shade they'd been before.

Slowly the nightmares began to fade and Harry was actually able to sleep all night. He still startled awake easily but he also was able to go back to sleep with little effort. Thanks to Molly's cooking, his thin frame filled out, his face no longer skeletal. Harry was learning to live again, learning to accept what Sirius had told him back in his fifth year. Bad things happen to good people. Now that he understood why he always felt so guilt-stricken about everything, he began letting it go.

He continued seeing Healer Emenda once a week and those went well. He talked—about everything he could think of. Through her guidance he began the hardest journey yet. Learning to love himself. She had continued the visits to several victimized families after the successful one with Dennis. Harry came away from each one humbled by the families' gracious acceptance of him and their concern for him. Then the Healer brought out the big guns, so to speak.

Every night for nine days, they met with one of the Weasleys. Those nine evenings were some of the most emotional moments of Harry's life. During the meetings, Harry got to see first hand how much each of the redheads truly cared for him. The first night, they started with Ron since he was the first Weasley to have befriended Harry.

The boys sat on the sofa, facing each other with Mentalia in a chair between them.

"Okay, Ron, close your eyes. Harry, close yours, too, so there's no distractions. Ron, I want you to think about Harry. What is it you feel toward him? Let it fill you up until you feel as if you'll overflow. When you've reached that point, nod your head."

After a few minutes, Ron nodded. Mentalia placed the tip of her wand against Ron's chest, right over his heart, whispered an incantation and watched as a golden gossamer thread attached itself to the wand. This she transferred to Harry by placing her wand over his heart and whispered another incantation.

The effect was instantaneous. Streaks of tears blazed damp paths down Harry's cheeks. His breath hitched with sobs barely contained. Having given Harry a few minutes to discover what it meant to be loved by Ron, she removed the borrowed emotions and returned them to their proper place. This was a powerful way for Harry to understand the depth of love these people had for him and she believed it would go a long way in the healing process of making Harry whole again.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Both did and stared at each other. Neither was aware of the Healer excusing herself, giving them some time alone. In the kitchen, she filled a glass of water and faced the crowd at the table.

"It went well. I think this therapy will be just the thing to do the trick. He's improved so much faster than I ever thought he might. He's looking good. Now, that's not to say there won't be setbacks because there likely will be. He might always be a bit jumpier than he used to be. He's always going to have good days and bad ones, like everyone else. Only, his bad ones will be worse than the average person's."

Taking a quick peek into the sitting room, she saw the boys talking, huddled close together. Every so often, tears were swiped away and a jesting punch thrown at the other. Smiles graced their faces and she nodded to herself and turned back to the assembled faces.

"Here's the thing. He's going to have to rely on his willpower when it comes to alcohol of _any_ kind and I do mean _any kind. _Butterbeer is included in that statement. It may not have much alcohol but it would be just enough to send Harry spiraling backward. His system will always crave it. That, unfortunately, is something that will never go away. Some days the cravings will be mild and other times those cravings could be strong enough to tempt him to find the nearest pub."

"What can we do, then?" Ginny asked.

Mentalia smiled at the young woman. Harry had talked of his feelings for her and Mentalia believed Ginny could be his lifeline.

"There's a reason I'm saving you for last in this therapy. What you feel for Harry is different from what everyone else here feels, correct?"

Ginny nodded, cheeks slightly pink.

"Because of this special connection you two have, you will be the one he's going to need to rely on in those moments. He's going to need someone who's willing to tell him like it is, no sugarcoating it, no stammering. Beware that in the throes of those cravings, he may not be entirely in control. He'll be emotional, angry, may say anything and everything in an attempt to force you away. You'll need to stand strong. It won't be easy but you have a wonderful support system in your family."

Ginny drew a deep breath, looking slightly overwhelmed.

"I don't mean to put all this on you. He's going to need everyone but I have a feeling he'll listen to you more than he will the others."

The Healer glanced back into the sitting room. "Okay, I'm going to have a little chat with Harry and then go. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Mentalia turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, be ready tomorrow evening."

ooooooo

Hermione's evening was just as emotional as Ron's. Then it was Percy's night. Awkward would have been a good way to describe the beginning of the session. By the end, however, the gap between them closed a fair bit. The two knew there would always be a bit of distance separating them, keeping them from being overly close but after the session, they were closer than ever. Charlie was next then Bill and Fleur. Their sessions were slightly less emotional since they were never that close to Harry to begin with. Molly and Arthur's session with Harry brought tears to all their eyes and Harry finally admitted to them how he'd always thought of them as his surrogate parents. The session with George was intense. Harry kept apologizing for what happened to Fred but after sharing George's emotions, Harry was finally able to let a lot of the guilt go.

The final night of this intensive therapy included Ginny. Harry actually felt a little nervous for the first time since Ron. He watched her enter the room, hair glistening in the light, her whiskey brown eyes soft and inviting. Her smile comforted him. His heart raced again as she sat next to him on the couch and he breathed deeply to try to relax. Her flowery scent reached him and he could have cried right then. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed being so close to her. Until now, he'd kept his distance thinking he wasn't good enough for her.

"Are we ready to start?" Mentalia asked the two.

At their nods, she had them close their eyes, telling them to relax first and foremost.

"Now, Ginny, fill yourself with all the feelings you have for Harry. Let them wash over you. Completely immerse yourself in them."

After a few seconds, Healer Emenda pulled the brightly glowing golden strand from Ginny and placed it within Harry. He gasped, his eyes flying open wide and stared at the girl beside him. She'd heard his gasp and opened her eyes and watched the emotions playing across his face.

"You...feel all that...for me?" he asked in a broken whisper.

Staring straight into his bright green eyes, she leaned forward. "Yes, Harry, I do. I always have and I always will."

This quiet statement completely undid him. He pulled her close and sobbed into her shoulder like never before. He'd thought he'd lost for good the best part of his life. She was his other half, she filled him with joy and he'd been so afraid he'd never feel that joy again. Now, here she was, showing him how deep her love for him went. There was no stopping the tears borne of the tremendous relief rushing through him mixing with her love that still resided inside him. Harry held Ginny sideways in his lap with a grip that surpassed Molly's typical hugs. He felt her hand running through his hair in such a tender way it made him weep more. Harry counted himself very lucky and vowed he would show her exactly how he felt for her every day for the rest of his life.

Finally, the sobs quieted to sniffles. One of Harry's hands slid upward into Ginny's hair and rested at her nape. Totally uncaring of his audience, he lifted his head just enough press his lips to hers. Nothing mattered but Ginny. He didn't hear soft sound of someone standing. He didn't hear the muffled footsteps walking away. He was thoroughly wrapped up in Ginny, where their mouths met, her touch, her scent. Harry deepened the kiss and could taste her tears. Without breaking the kiss, both his hands came up and gently removed the wetness from her cheeks.

Forced to part, he rested he forehead against hers and breathed. Her breath brushed across his cheek and he thought it heaven.

"I love you, Gin," he whispered. "I never stopped loving you. I know you have questions and I'll answer them. Whatever you want to know, just ask it."

"I love you so much, Harry. Yes, I do have questions but they can wait."

Ginny's thumb feathered across his cheek before giving him a lingering kiss.

"Right now, all I want is hold you. Right now, it's all I need. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too. I used to take out the Marauder's Map at night and watch for you. You're what kept me going. Thoughts of you and the future I wanted with you kept me from giving up."

Ginny pulled Harry close for a tight hug, kissed him again then rested her head against the beat of his heart. She felt so content, no _happy, _but also very sleepy. Soon, she was asleep with one arm wrapped around his back and the other rested where his neck and shoulder met.

Harry, too, was exhausted. Placing a light kiss on the top of Ginny's head, he slid down the couch arm until he was lying down. He shifted her position just a little so he could get comfortable and, still clutching the remarkable, beautiful girl in his arms, allowed sleep to overtake him.

Oooooo

Mentalia slipped away from the couple and into the kitchen to face the others. She couldn't stop the beaming smile from spreading across her face. Romantic love was definitely the world's best healer. While her work wasn't done, she could see the light at the end of tunnel. She shook her head, amazed at his rapid progress. She'd never seen anyone progress like he had. Then again, she'd never met anyone like him before, either. Harry Potter was indeed special. One of a kind and she felt blessed to have met him. She glanced at the sea of anxiously awaiting people and smiled.

"I think we're hitting the home stretch, as Muggles like to say. That means, he's not going to be needing me much longer. I've been quite impressed with his progression. Actually, I'm astounded. I've never seen anyone recover as quickly as he has."

"Yes, well, Harry is a remarkable boy," Molly replied.

"That he is. Are there any questions?"

Arthur stood and embraced the woman. "You'll have our eternal thanks for bringing him back to us."

"I didn't do anything, really. Harry found his way back on his own. I was just there to guide him when he needed it. He took all the necessary steps to face his demons. He fought his way back to you because he realized here is where he's supposed to be."

"Well, thank you, again."

"Glad I can help. I'm going to start tapering off my visits. Instead of every week, I'll come every other week unless, of course, something happens and I'm needed before then. Don't hesitate to contact me."

She peeked into the sitting room and smiled at the sight of the two fast asleep on the couch. "Well, I don't think I'll be talking to Harry any more tonight which is just as well. He'll be in good hands."

Arthur checked the scene and chuckled. "Yes, it certainly appears so."

They bid the Healer good-bye and the group quietly dispersed with everyone but Arthur and Molly heading upstairs. Each of those passing by the couch smiled softly at the sight that greeted them. Molly stood beside her husband, arm around his waist, head resting on his shoulder as she gazed upon the sleeping couple from the kitchen doorway.

"They're so young to feel so strongly for one another and yet they're not, either. They've been through so much. Something tells me our daughter is going to be married soon and, you know what, I'm okay with that. Two halves of whole."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Molly. I really wasn't looking forward to trying to convince you of that. I think I knew the instant Harry saw her at Bill's wedding. I recognized the look in his eyes. The one that says 'She's stunning and I love her. I want her to be mine.' Of course, she had that very same look in her eyes, too."

"I'm not going to get them to wait very long, am I?"

"Probably not."

Molly sighed. "Oh well. They'll have their happy ending. That's what counts."

"Yes, it does."

Arthur extinguished the candles lighting the room and walked, arm in arm with his wife, up to their room, leaving Harry and Ginny to each other.


	13. Til It Goes Bad

_**...Till it goes bad**_

_**You try to find the you you once had**_

Harry couldn't remember feeling so—free. He felt washed clean of all the doubts and guilt he'd carried around for years and that made him giddy. Being the son of a Marauder, everyone knew he had a mischievous streak but it became more apparent as time went on. He'd managed to prank them all at one time or another. No one minded bearing the brunt of the joke as it made Harry laugh and they were all determined to do whatever it took, to suffer anything, as long as Harry was laughing again. Indeed, Harry's enthusiasm for life was almost child-like. Everything he did, he did it with a sense of wonder, amazed that he was alive and could enjoy what he was doing.

Often, mornings were spent with Ginny, alone, walking the property or sitting under a giant oak tree and talking. As a matter of fact, they were rarely apart, which initially brought on some teasing from George but even he didn't seem to have the heart to do it too much. In the afternoons, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione swam in the river bisecting the Weasley property, played Exploding Snap, or even quidditch after coaxing Hermione back onto a broom.

Harry hadn't, as of yet, made any public appearances. That was something that he dreaded. Whenever it was mentioned, he'd panic. The thought of all those people singing his praises—he just couldn't handle it. No one forced the issue but Harry knew, deep down, he was going to have to venture away from the Burrow sometime. This place had become his security blanket and he clung tightly to it like a child, not yet ready to give it up.

The real world has a way of intruding, however, and did so on one particular afternoon. The four teens were returning from a long swim and had reached the back porch when they heard the voices. One, a deep baritone. The other, soft yet determined.

"The people need to see him, Arthur. They need to thank him for what he's done."

"I'm telling you, Kingsley, he's not ready. Let him be. He needs this time with family, to get his bearings. When he's willing to see you, you'll be contacted."

"Arthur, I'm telling you, the people are clamoring for their hero. They're going to start thinking some not-so-nice things about Harry if he doesn't show soon."

"For Merlin's sake, Shacklebolt," Arthur's voice rising in anger, "None of you know what he's been through. He deserves this time to himself."

That was all the conversation Harry heard. Kingsley's disembodied voice brought back the horrifying few moments during Bill and Fleur's wedding when the Death Eaters attacked. Harry's breath hitched, his heart pounded as if trying to escape his chest. His skin turned clammy. Lost in the visions cycling through his mind, breath wheezing in and out, Harry was unaware he'd been pulled into the kitchen and forced to sit with Ginny kneeling in front of him. He couldn't seem to get enough air and it panicked him more.

Ginny cradled his face in her hands and forced him to look her in the eyes. His hands gripped her forearms almost painfully.

"Harry, love," she gently but firmly spoke, "it's okay. Everything's okay. You're fine. I need you breathe, though. Come on, breathe with me."

She took a long, deep breathe and let it out slowly. "Breathe in." Inhale. "Breathe out." Exhale. She continued breathing this way, keeping Harry's focus on her.

When that didn't seem to have any affect, Ginny shook him a little.

"Come on, Harry!" she said, forcefully. "Don't you dare die on me, now. I'll bring you back just to kill you again. Now, breathe. In." She inhaled deeply again. "Now out." She let the air out slowly.

Ginny continued this exercise as Harry slowly began to respond.

"What's wrong?" Kingsley asked, alarmed.

"That is why Harry isn't ready to play hero, Kingsley," Arthur replied. "It's a panic attack. He has them periodically, though he's been better lately."

Arthur directed his question to Ron and Hermione, full of concern. "What brought this on?"

"He was fine until we got to the porch and overheard you two talking."

Hermione nodded in agreement before adding her own deduction. "I suspect it had something to do with hearing Minister Shacklebolt's voice before seeing him. It was like Bill's wedding all over again."

Arthur nodded. "You could be right, Hermione."

Arthur watched as his daughter slowly helped Harry regain control before turning back to Kingsley.

"Honestly, Kingsley, you can see for yourself that he's not ready to face a mob of well-wishers and press."

Kingsley studied the young man before him with concern. "That I can. Harry," he spoke sympathetically once the youth had calmed, "I'm sorry to have scared you so. I would like to see you down at the Ministry when you're up to it. You're going to have to make some kind of statement, unfortunately, or you may not ever get any privacy. Let me know when you're ready and I'll set it up."

Harry nodded, not daring to speak. He felt utterly humiliated for what just happened and in front of everyone. He tried to look to the floor but a certain redhead wouldn't let him. She tightened her hold on him and forced his eyes back to hers. She knew exactly what he'd been thinking, he could see it in her eyes. Her whiskey brown eyes were fiercely determined to make him understand. Those beautiful eyes spoke to him, telling him he needn't be embarrassed or she'd kick his arse, telling him to accept it and move on but, most of all, telling him she still loved him.

"I'm okay, now," he croaked, a weak attempt at a smile on his face.

"Not quite but almost," Ginny softly said before placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

She stood and went to fill a glass with water then brought it to Harry, literally placing it in his hands and wrapping them around the glass before letting go. Satisfied when he'd taken a few swallows, she turned away from him but kept a hand at his neck, caressing him, fingers combing through his hair.

Harry glanced briefly up at Kingsley before looking away. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Kingsley, I don't know that I can handle a mob right now but I'll let you know when I'm able. I really wish they'd just let me live my life in peace."

"I know, Harry, and believe me, I wish I could let you. To pacify everyone, I'll tell them you've been sick. That should hold them off a little while longer."

"I appreciate it," murmured Harry.

"It's the least I could do, Harry."

Knowing where the Minister was going with that statement, he shook his head.

"Don't," came out in a desperately whispered plea.

Slight pressure around his neck drew Harry's attention to Ginny. He looked up into her eyes.

"Acknowledge and move on, Harry," was all she said but he understood her meaning.

Nodding, his gaze returned to the tall dark-skinned man.

"Thanks."

For awhile that afternoon, Harry was subdued. He'd been having a grand time with his friends but reality intruded as it was wont to do. He sat around, staring into into space. Ginny never left his side, silently offering her support, for which Harry was thankful. By the evening meal, he was nearly back to his pre-Kingsley visit self, putting the incident behind him. He thought he'd managed to postpone the outside world's intrusion into his little bubble. He was soon disabused of that notion.

When Harry woke the next morning, he was surprised to see the sun so high in the sky. It looked to be almost mid-morning. Quickly, he got up, showered and headed downstairs only to find the house quiet. Quiet was NOT the Weasley household. Ever. Something horrible must have happened while he blissfully slept the morning away. Knowing the family gathered around the kitchen table in times of stress, Harry made his way to that room on weighted feet. He must have made some noise for, the instant he was in the doorway, many pairs of eyes turned in his direction, all filled with worry.

Gulping, Harry whispered, resignation heavy in his voice, "What is it?"

Ginny actually got up and walked over to him, took him by the hand and led him back to the table. Still holding his hand, she handed him the morning paper. In giant letters on the front page of the Daily Prophet was a headline meant to grab your attention.

**BOY-WHO-LIVED NOW BOY-WHO-HIDES**

**It has been several weeks since the fall of Voldemort and Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the Defeater of Evil, has yet to show his face. Is he hiding? Why? Is he feeling guilty for all the heartache many of you, my loyal readers, have suffered? One could certainly argue the time it took for him do his job led to so many needless deaths, especially when one considers some of those deaths were of students, some younger than Mr. Potter.**

**The official word is that Mr. Potter has been ill. In what way? Is it some heretofore unknown long-lasting magical ailment that we all need to worry about or is it something deeper, something darker? Has Mr. Potter become even more unbalanced than when I first had reported on him during the Triwizard Tournament? A source has told me he's been seeing a Mind Healer. I've been unable to unequivocally disprove this statement.**

**Or is that just some wild rumor and Mr. Potter is really just hiding, cowardly avoiding his duties to the wizarding world? **

**Me, Myself, and I want to know.**

Harry's first thought was of Skeeter. _That evil little cow! _Followed quickly on that thought's heels was one of his Healer. _She said she'd keep our meetings confidential! _Not trusting himself to even open his mouth, Harry stood, deceptively calm, walked straight out the back door and over to his punching bag. The past couple weeks he'd used it less but now he didn't even bother with the gloves that hung next to it.

Imagining Skeeter's smarmy grin on the bag, Harry threw a punch with all his might. Then he threw another with just as much force. Blow after blow followed. Several long minutes later, when the pain in his hands and wrists finally registered, he grabbed the bag to keep it from swinging. Breathing heavily from his exertion, he looked at his hands and was quite shocked at the damage he'd done. His knuckles were split open, blood pouring from the wounds. Nearly his entire hands were swollen. He winced as pain shot up his arm after flexing, first his fingers, then his wrist.

Turning away from the heavy bag, he startled. Ginny sat under his tree, book lying open in her lap, wand on top of the book and two jars of paste next to her. Next to them was a vial of what he knew to be some sort of pain potion. Sighing at what was likely going to be a good telling-off, he sat, heavily, beside her.

"Okay, just do it and get it over with."

Ginny looked up, puzzled. "Get what over with?"

"Aren't you going to yell at me for losing my temper, for using the bag without my gloves?"

He'd spoken without looking at her, so Ginny reached up and gently turned his face to her. Then she caressed his cheek before leaning over and giving him a sweet, loving kiss on his lips.

"Harry," she said after pulling back slightly, "what that evil cow wrote is enough to make anyone upset. I'd much rather you let your feelings go instead of bottling them up. Besides, who am I to chastise you for your temper when you've seen mine."

Sitting back, she put away the book and took one of his hands, settling it in her lap. Smiling inwardly at Harry's blush, she calmly retrieved her wand and healed the split skin and removed all traces of blood.

"Mum wouldn't let me use more magic than necessary so we have to make due with the bruise paste," she said with a roll of her eyes and shake of her head as she reached for a jar.

Thick yellow paste was then smeared over his knuckles, down his fingers and over his hand on both sides. Harry thought it the most wonderful stuff in the world as the angry discoloring of his skin mostly disappeared. Then came the other jar filled with a thick, light green paste. This Ginny rubbed everywhere he had any swelling. In less than a minute, the swelling had all but gone.

"Give me your other hand."

Harry turned around to face her so she could work on his other hand. She sat quietly, repeating her ministrations. Harry didn't mind the silence. He got to watch the sun play through her fiery hair as she worked. His eyes raked over her features and he felt his eyes begin to tear. He still couldn't believe she loved him. _Him_. Whatever he'd done to deserve her, he vowed to never screw it up. What he said next was unplanned but, nevertheless, felt right once they were spoken.

"Marry me, Ginny."

Ginny's head shot up, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Marry me. I know we're young but we can make it work," his voice grew excited with the prospect but also held a pleading tone, "We were apart for nearly an entire year and it was during that time that I realized I will never love anyone more than I love you. You can still have a career, whatever you want to do but I want to share my life with you. I waited for so long to have love in my life. I don't want to wait anymore."

Ginny stared at him, not knowing what to say, at first. In fact, gobsmacked would be an accurate description of how she was feeling. Her heart raced. Did he just ask what she thought he just asked? Did he just say the words she'd always wanted to hear? As she sat there, unable to think, she saw the light dim in his eyes, the hurt quickly hidden. It was that flash of hurt that spurred her into speaking.

"Yes."

"What?" It was Harry's turn to wonder if she'd said what he'd wanted to hear.

With a growing smile, Ginny repeated, "Yes, I'll marry you, Harry. I love you so much. I don't want to wait, either."

The smile that graced Harry's features at that moment was the biggest she'd ever seen. It could have blown Lockhart's award winning smile out of the air, easily. With a laugh and a few tears, they held tightly to each other before sharing a tender kiss full of promise. Then Harry's stomach growled and ruined the moment. Laughing, they pulled away.

"So, when would you want to get married?" Ginny asked.

"Would before the start of school be too soon?" Harry half-jokingly asked.

"Hmm. Mum may kill us."

"It's okay, Ginny. I was joking, anyway. Well, sort of."

Ginny contemplated the issue, lower lip caught in her teeth. Then she suddenly met Harry's eyes, mischief, determination and joy radiating from them.

"Let's do it. Let's get married before school starts."

"What?"

Harry couldn't believe he'd heard her right. His heart thumped in his chest.

"You asked if we could get married before school starts. Let's do it."

"But Ginny, what about your mum? She's been wanting to plan a grand wedding for you."

"Harry, it's _my_ wedding, not hers. I don't want grand. I just want you."

Ginny loved to see that huge smile on Harry's face and was very pleased with herself for being able to put it there.

"So, where will it be?"

"Here," Harry replied instantly.

"Really?" Ginny asked, not daring to believe his thought had mirrored hers.

"Of course. It would be perfect! Besides, the last wedding here got ruined because of me. It's only fitting that I fix that."

"Harry," Ginny said, sternly, "you are NOT responsible for what happened." Harry opened his mouth but she spoke again. "Uh uh. Shut it. You are not responsible for other people's actions. Say it with me."

Harry said it with her over and over until she was satisfied he'd sounded convinced. Finally nodding her acceptance, she picked up the conversation where they'd left off.

"Now, do you _really_ want it here or would you rather somewhere else?"

"No, I really want it here," he reassured her.

"Who do you want to perform the ceremony?"

"Well, who's available?"

"Well," Ginny gave it some thought, "there's Kingsley as he's Minister now. Professor McGonagall could probably do it since she's Headmistress now, too."

"I kind of like the idea of McGonagall doing it."

"Me too."

"I'll send her an owl and-,"

His enthusiasm tapered as he remembered he no longer had an owl. Sadness engulfed him as he thought of his first real friend. She'd been with him for so long, it was hard not having her around. He missed how she'd affectionately cuff him on his head with a wing when he was being daft or too stubborn. Just once more he'd love to feel her nip his finger before going off to deliver his letters.

Ginny, knowing exactly why he'd stopped, held his hand in both of hers.

"She was a good friend, Harry. She was always so protective of you."

Ginny smiled sadly as a memory surfaced. "I'll never forget the day she came to me instead of you after returning from a hunt. Totally shocked my young mind."

"She must have seen something in you, even then. I always knew she was smart. Wish I'd seen it, too."

Ginny glanced over at Harry and smiled. "You weren't interested in girls at the time, Harry. You weren't ready and neither was I."

"I know but I should have taken that as a sign. She never approached anyone else unless a job was to be done. Everyone tried so hard to befriend her with little success."

"I did, too, at first. I wanted so much for her to like me. I thought that if your owl liked me, thought me special, then you would, too. Boy was I disappointed."

"And then she came to you."

Ginny nodded. "I wasn't even trying. I'd given up. I just happened to be stretching when she flew in and landed on my arm."

Harry snickered at the memory. "I'll never forget the look on your face. You looked so guilty and then you blushed so much you matched your hair."

Ginny swatted Harry. "Prat. It's true, though. All I could do was stare, completely mortified, and when you looked at me, I just couldn't help it. I looked guilty because, the night before, I'd wished on a falling star that you would take notice of me, that you'd be given a sign that I was the one for you."

Harry chuckled. "Hedwig landing on your arm the very next day must have been thrilling."

"It was," Ginny agreed, "but it was scary, too. And then, you still didn't look at me any differently. I was relieved, sort of."

Harry sat remembering the good times with his first magical friend. Technically he guessed Hagrid was the first but he'd barely seen Hagrid until school. Hedwig had gone back to the Dursleys with him. She'd been proof that the magical world existed, that it hadn't been a dream. He sighed in resignation.

"I'm going to have to get another owl."

"At some point, yes. I'm sure Ron would let you use Pig, for now."

"Would you mind living at Grimmauld Place for awhile? Kreacher can fix it up for us."

"No, I wouldn't mind. I would like to have our own place eventually."

"A place that's cozier and with a yard," Harry agreed. "First things first, though."

Harry addressed the air beside them. "Kreacher!"

The aged, diminutive elf appeared, Regulus' fake locket still hanging from its neck, a huge smile on its face. "Master called?"

"Yes, Kreacher. I need your help. Ginny and I are going to be married soon and we're going to need Grimmauld Place habitable. I need you to help fix it up. We'll be there, too, but you can do things we can't. Is Winky still having trouble?"

"Yes, Master Harry, Winky has been inconsolable since Dobby's passing."

"Have Winky help you with the house. Tell her she'll be paid a single Knut when the job is finished along with the possibility of earning a place with a family."

Hurt flashed through Kreacher's rheumy eyes and Harry realized his mistake. "Oh, not with me, Kreacher. You do an excellent job for me. No, I have someone else in mind."

"As Master Harry wishes." Kreacher _popped _out of existence.

"Very sly of you, Potter. Paying her a single Knut."

Harry cheekily grinned. "Hermione can't argue that I'm not paying her. Winky would have argued if I'd offered more. Besides, what Winky needs is a family to serve."

"And who do you have in mind?"

"Well, who could use an elf more than anyone?"

Ginny thought a moment. "My mum could use the company once all of us are out of the house. Andromeda could use some help with Teddy."

Harry frowned. "I hadn't thought of either of them."

"Well, who did you have in mind, then?"

"You'll see," he said, mischief shining from his emerald eyes.

A commotion in the front yard had them looking up to see a mass of reporters, cameras flashing, standing on the outskirts of the property, prohibited by the wards still in place.

Hastily gathering the medical supplies, Ginny said, "Harry, here's the pain potion for your hands."

"Don't need it," he cheekily said, an impish grin on his face, "Right now, I'm so happy I can't feel any pain."

The pair had been spotted by the hungry mob and shouted questions assaulted them.

"Come on, Harry, let's get inside."

Ooooooo

Because of the tabloid headline, the young couple had to remain indoors for the day in order to stay out of view of the reporters camped out at the edge of the property. Eventually, Aurors came to _encourage_ them to leave. Harry and Ginny decided to tell her parents their plans that night after dinner, just the three of them. Sitting at one side of the table were Arthur and Molly. Across from them sat Harry and Ginny.

"So what is it you wanted to speak to us about?" Arthur asked.

"Well, er...I mean...," Harry stammered.

"Harry asked me to marry him and I said yes," Ginny said with absolutely no trouble at all.

Molly gave a sharp cry of surprise and delight and jumped up out of her seat to run around the table and hug them both.

"Oh, this is wonderful news! Oh, we should start planning tomorrow so we can get the bulk of it done before the start of school. It'll be really hard once you're there. Have you set a date? June is a popular month for weddings."

"Mum, we're not waiting until June."

"Well, okay," Molly said a bit less enthusiastically, "a Christmas wedding would be very pretty, too. Planning could be difficult but I'm sure it would work out."

"We're not thinking Christmas, either," Harry put in quietly, almost shyly.

Molly eyed the two of them. "When exactly _are_ you thinking?"

Ginny's chin notched upward. "We're getting married this summer, after our birthdays."

They hadn't discussed exactly when but it sounded right to Harry so he nodded in agreement. He cringed when Molly's gaze turned suspicious.

"Is there something you two aren't telling me, some reason why you feel the need to marry right away?"

"No!" they said in unison, both red in the face.

"Of course not. We haven't...er...she isn't...I mean," Harry stammered and blushed.

"I'm not pregnant, Mum. We haven't shared that. Yet." Her voice made it clear it wouldn't remain that way for long and caused Harry to blush.

"So why the rush, then? You're young! You have a lot of living to do yet!"

"Mum, you make it sound like getting married is the end of the world."

"Well, of course I didn't mean it like that," Molly backtracked. "I just meant that there's no need to rush. Marriage is a big step." She turned to her husband. "Arthur, tell them they're way too young to do this."

Arthur had been studying the pair while Molly had talked and was satisfied with what he'd seen.

"Molly, once Ginny's of age it won't matter what you want. I think I understand what's motivating them."

"What's motivating them is hormones!" Molly cried, upset she wasn't being supported on the issue.

Though he was totally red in the face, Harry cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Mrs. Weasley, it's not that. I mean, yes, okay, I'd love to...er...well, anyway, that's not the main reason. It's just that," he pleaded with her to understand, "all my life I've had to put aside what I wanted. My wants always had to be postponed, pushed to the side in favor of someone or something else. I just spent the better part of a year away from the one person I wanted to be with. I had to push her to the side but I don't have to do that anymore. I don't want to wait anymore."

Molly's expression softened. She hadn't taken any of that into account. After hearing it, how could she not go along with it? Nearly everyone Harry knew had denied him of something. How could she do the same? She had no doubt the two were as deeply in love as a couple could be. With tears in her eyes, she nodded.

"Okay, I understand. I can't really blame you, I suppose. Just promise me you'll wait to have kids."

"Believe me, Mum, neither of us is ready for that," Ginny joked.

Harry stood and engulfed his surrogate mother in a hug to rival her own.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he whispered in her ear.

"Dad, I was expecting a little more resistance from you," Ginny said with a smile.

Arthur smiled, too. "Well, I thought about it, put myself in your place and realized it would be okay, that you two would be strong enough to make it work."

Ginny got up and hugged her father. Harry shook the man's hand but was also pulled into a hug.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley. It means a lot to me that you both are okay with this."

"Son," Arthur deliberately spoke, looking straight into Harry's eyes, "I couldn't have picked better."

"Thanks," Harry replied, embarrassed. "You didn't seem all that surprised."

They all sat at the table again before Arthur responded.

"I'm not. Obviously, I've always known how Ginny felt about you. That summer before your sixth year, Harry, I noticed something. You seemed to talk to Ginny more than you did Ron and Hermione. She was able to make you smile more than anyone else. Then, that Christmas, I noticed some not-so-subtle glances in her direction and I had this feeling that it was just beginning, that we'd end up here, eventually."

Harry smiled sheepishly, remembering how he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the youngest Weasley. He chuckled at the thought that nothing had changed. He still loved watching her.

"We're going to be fixing up Grimmauld Place," Ginny informed her parents. "Well, Kreacher and Winky have already started but Harry and I are going over tomorrow to help."

"But Ginny, I need your help if you plan to have a wedding before school begins. There's decorations to begin working on, colors to choose, dress robes to have designed, announcements to be made."

Harry cringed at the idea of announcing to the world he was getting married. Catching Harry's reaction, Molly amended her statement.

"Okay, maybe not announcements, but invitations to those you want to be there need to be sent."

"Mum," Ginny firmly but gently said, "invitations can be written out and there's really not going to be many of them, a few students and professors, probably. Decorations can be made magically like I did the paper chains at Christmas two years ago."

"But that's not good enough for a wedding," Molly started to argue.

"But it's what we want," Harry's soft voice broke into Mrs. Weasley's rant.

Immediately deflating, Molly sighed. "Okay, if it's what you truly want."

"It is." Ginny jumped up and hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mum."

The following days were spent deciding who to invite, the colors they wanted and how they wanted the back garden decorated. Time was also spent helping Kreacher and Winky clean up the old Black residence. Occasionally, Madame Malkin came to the Burrow to help Ginny choose the style and color of dress she wanted and also to help with bridesmaid's dresses. Ginny had insisted on wearing a Muggle dress instead of robes. The days passed quickly and before either knew it, Harry's birthday was upon them.

Harry woke to the lightest of kisses. He sighed and smiled, pulling her down so she lay next to him. He finally opened his eyes and drank in the sight of the early morning sun shining in Ginny's fiery hair, warm brown eyes glowing with happiness.

"Hey," he rasped. "I could get used to being wakened like that."

"Good because pretty soon I'll get to wake you like that every day."

Harry's hand swept into Ginny's hair and cupped her nape bringing her lips close to his.

"I can't wait," he whispered before he closed the distance between them.

The kiss was soft, tender, loving. Neither were in any kind of hurry. After several minutes, Ginny pulled back.

"Happy birthday, Harry. Come on downstairs. Mum made all your favorites for breakfast."

Harry's lips skimmed along her jaw. "I'd rather stay here but that's tempting fate way too much."

Ginny giggled. "I know but it won't be much longer."

Harry sighed. "Keep telling me that. Okay, let me get a shower and I'll be down."

Ginny brushed her lips against Harry's a final time before slipping out of his grasp. At his door, she turned, blew him a kiss then walked out. Harry sighed as he fought to regain some control. It just wouldn't do to be caught in this condition by ANY of the other Weasleys. Once the storm inside had settled, he gathered some clothes and toiletries and headed for the loo.

In the kitchen, Harry was greeted by the sea of Weasleys and Hermione. With a full plate, he happily ate while listening to the myriad conversations around the table until his gaze lit upon the lone unoccupied chair. Painfully, he swallowed the bite of food in his mouth. It still hurt seeing George without his twin. His chest tightened and his vision swam but he couldn't seem to tear his gaze from that testament of a lost life. How could they celebrate Harry's birthday when Fred will no longer be celebrating his?

The tender swipe of a thumb across his cheek drew his attention to the woman at his side. He hadn't realized any tears had escaped but now he could feel the wetness on his face. He gazed into her concerned eyes and attempted a trembling smile.

"I'm okay," he said, voice thick.

"No, you're not but that's okay," Ginny replied softly. "We all miss him but he'd want us to continue living. He'd expect us to live life to its fullest the way he always did."

Harry nodded. "It's just that—it just hit me that he's never going to celebrate another birthday or anything else, for that matter."

"I know but we have each other to lean on. This family will get through the tough times by leaning on each other."

Harry, again, nodded his acceptance and dried his eyes with his handkerchief. Clearing his throat, he glanced quickly around the table.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Harry," Molly gently chided him from his right. "Never be sorry."

Harry picked up his glass and sipped his juice, forcing it past the lump in his throat. He suddenly wished it was something stronger. The intense craving tore through him so quickly he nearly dropped his glass. Carefully, he replaced it on the table hoping no one noticed his shaking hand. He tried to eat but nothing tasted right. With startling clarity, he could remember how firewhiskey tasted, how it burned as it was swallowed, the warmth that spread once it hit his stomach. It had been awhile since he'd felt the powerful urge to have a drink so feeling it now took him by surprise.

"Harry?"

"What?" he snapped.

"Are you okay?"

Gazing into Ginny's concerned face irritated him for some reason. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're shaking like a leaf."

"I said I'm fine," he insisted harshly. "You just can't leave well enough alone, can you? You're just like Hermione. Nag, nag, nag. Well, I'm tired of it. Leave. Me. Alone."

With that, Harry stormed out of the room, across the sitting room and through the front door, slamming it as he went.

Ginny sat in stunned silence along with everyone else. Things had been going so well lately. Though she tried not to, she couldn't help but feel hurt at his words. She knew it wasn't truly him talking. Healer Emenda had warned her there would be really bad days. This was shaping up to be one of those days. While gathering herself together, she felt a hand lightly caress her arm.

"He didn't mean it, Ginny," Molly spoke quietly, sadly.

"I know he didn't, Mum. It must be one of those bad days the Healer told us about. It was just so sudden. He told me he'd been having mild cravings lately but all the work we've been doing has kept them under control. I need to go find him."

Ginny launched herself from the table and followed the same path Harry had taken. Frantically, she glanced around, hoping to find some sign of which direction he'd taken. Then, _there!_ A lone figure marched down the lane towards the village. Sprinting after him, she caught up in less than a minute.

"Harry, you don't want to do this."

"You don't know _what_ I want."

Ginny jumped in front of him, walking backward.

"I know that you, physically, may want this but, emotionally, you don't. I know that you want to beat this. I know that you want to have a life with me, that you love me. I know that you _don't _want Voldemort to win and Harry, that's exactly what will happen if you do this. He'll win from beyond the grave."

Harry silently shoved her aside and continued his pace. What did she _really_ know? She couldn't possibly understand what it's like. The need set fire to his veins. He was so thirsty. Nothing seemed to quench it. He shook so badly he was surprised his teeth weren't rattling in his head. Reaching up, he swiped a trickle of sweat from his temple, using his long sleeve that he insisted on still wearing. A hand touched his arm and he reacted.

Ginny suddenly found herself looking down the business end of Harry's wand. It frightened her just a little but she had faith in her fiance. She knew he'd never hurt her so she stood, stoically, waiting for his next move, staring into his desperation-filled eyes.

"Stay away from me," Harry begged. "Just let me do this. Just one drink, that's all. Just one. One isn't going to hurt anything."

"It will, Harry, trust me." Her voice strengthened. "Harry, love, you have to fight it. It can't be easy but it wouldn't be worth it if it was. As Dumbledore taught us, 'do what's right, not what's easy.'"

Harry stood there, wand pointed right in her face, violently shaking. He wanted a drink so badly but bad enough to hurt Ginny? Because he knew that's what it would take. She wouldn't give up, not _his_ Ginny. He'd have to stun her or something to get her to leave him alone. Then he'd have to face the disappointment in her eyes afterward. With a frustrated cry, he whirled away from her, heels of his hands digging into his temples. He couldn't willingly hurt her in any way again. She was right. Giving in to the temptation would be the easy way out. Once again, his vision swam as tears mixed with the lingering sweat on his face.

Then he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist, a gentle kiss pressed between his shoulder blades. Swiftly, he turned and held her for all he was worth, openly crying, pressing his face against her neck. Over and over he whispered the same phrase.

"I'm so sorry, love. Please forgive me."

Ginny held him tightly, her hands tracing slow soothing motions up and down his back. In his ear, she whispered soft, comforting sounds. After he'd calmed, she slipped her hands into Harry's hair and then cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

"I'm sorry, too, Harry. I'm sorry that you have to deal with this. I'm sorry that you've been so hurt that it's led you to this. But Harry, I love you and I will _always_ be here. There's not a thing you can do that will make me let you go. I've waited too long."

Ginny's eyes took on a decidedly mischievous gleam.

"You _do_ have a wicked temper. I should know. It takes one to know one, right?"

That got a sniffling chuckle from Harry. Ginny wrapped an arm around his waist and drew his arm across her shoulders with her free, lacing their fingers together.

"Come on, love," she said with a smile, steering them back the way they'd come. "Let's go home."

oooooo

Upon returning to the Burrow, Harry apologized for his behavior, was told not to worry about it and nothing else was said, to Harry's relief. Deciding he needed something to occupy his mind, he challenged Ron to a contest. Harry claimed he could punch harder than Ron and, sure enough, Ron's competitive streak kicked in. After having Bill conjure a mechanical device to gauge the force of their punches, Harry banished it into the punching bag and then let Ron have a go at the bag first, with Harry holding it steady.

Ron threw a few punches but none were very strong. Harry goaded him into throwing a few more, stronger this time. After a few more choice words from Harry, Ron removed the special gloves and used his fists. It came as a shock to Ron how tough the bag really was and gained more respect for his friend, having seen Harry go at the bag bare fisted many times. Eventually, and unfortunately for Ron, not a long time passed before he called it quits.

Bending over, gasping, he said, "I just can't do any more."

"Fine," Harry said with a smirk and removed the force gauge to check the results. "Not bad...for a weakling."

"Oi!" Ron cried indignantly, giving Harry a playful shove. "Who you calling weakling, you git!"

Harry shared the results with Ron before resetting the device and banishing it inside the bag again.

"Alright, my turn."

The way Harry said it and the look on his face reminded Ron of the expressions the twins always used when getting ready to pull a brilliant prank. Something inside Ron began to worry a little. When the first punch Harry threw knocked Ron on his bum, Ron knew he was in trouble. After he'd stumbled a few times, Ron learned to lean into the bag to counteract the force.

By the time Harry called it quits, Ron's arms felt like jelly. He had to admit he was really impressed but hated what it had taken for Harry to get that good.

"Where the bloody hell you keeping that power? You're just as scrawny now as you were when I first met you?"

"Oi! Scrawny my arse!"

"Which is definitely _not_ scrawny," Ginny proclaimed as she and Hermione joined the boys. "It's very nicely toned."

"Ugh! Ginny!" Ron complained, his face scrunched up in disgust. "I really don't need to hear comments like that."

The girls giggled at Ron's discomfort. Harry merely walked over to his girl and kissed her soundly to Ron's continued displeasure. Once they parted, Ginny told Harry to get cleaned up for his party, guests would be arriving soon.

Harry wasn't sure if a party was necessary but it seemed like it kept everyone else's spirits up so who was he to protest? Arm in arm, with Ginny's hand inside his back pocket, the couple headed back to the house. Harry was glad he'd gotten the chance to work out a little. It really had helped get the craving back under control. It was still there, under the surface, like a dragon fighting to be released from its tether. He hoped he could get through the next little while without another incident.

Sensing his internal conflict, Ginny squeezed the aforementioned nicely toned bum and giggled as Harry jumped in surprise.

"Got you thinking about something else, didn't I?"

"That you did," Harry said with a grin. "Thanks, love."

He gave her a quick kiss before disappearing inside to get cleaned up.

Ooooooo

He couldn't believe how good it was to see all his old friends again. Seamus, Dean, Neville, Parvati, Padma, Luna and Dennis were all there. Hannah came with Neville which took Harry by surprise. He didn't think Neville even knew Hannah. McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, Hagrid, Flitwick and Sprout were also in attendance. Even Kreacher and Winky showed their faces. This was in addition, naturally, to all the Weasleys and Hermione so lunch became an outside buffet.

After lunch came the cake and presents. Mr. Weasley stood and raised his glass of punch in Harry's honor and gave a very heartfelt speech. As much as Harry hated being the center of attention in such a way, the elder Weasley's words touched him. Once the presents had been opened and the cake consumed, the adults disappeared into the house to leave the 'kids' to enjoy themselves. A Wizarding Wireless radio was turned up and people began to dance.

To make up for his lack of social skills back in his fourth year, Harry invited Parvati to dance. Parvati looked to Ginny for permission. When it was granted, Parvati took the proffered hand and smiled.

"That's sweet of you, Harry. I'd love to."

Harry twirled her around the makeshift dance floor in the only dance he really knew even though it clashed horribly with the rock music being played.

"Wow, Harry, I'm impressed. You've definitely improved."

Their dance finished, Ginny cut in. "Okay, my turn." She led him off into the throng.

Parvati watched the two slow dance and sighed at such a romantic sight. It was obvious they were completely in love. The dark-skinned girl had once had a slight crush on Harry but she could see he was with the one he was meant to be with. Smiling, she walked away in search of someone to chat with.

Ooooooo

"How can he possibly wear long sleeves in this heat? I'm practically broiling," wondered one boy.

"Don't know but this will loosen things up just a bit," another boy said as he pulled out a large silver flask.

The first boy's eyes rounded. "Where did you get that? And are you sure you should do that?"

"We're of age remember? I just walked into the Leaky Cauldron and bought it. Why wouldn't I want to? It's only a little. What's the harm?"

The second boy emptied the flask into the punch bowl, stirred the punch around and slipped the flask back into his pocket after shrinking it.

"Come on, let's go stand over there," he said, pointing to an out of the way spot. "The show should be starting soon."

ooooooo

Harry and Ginny stumbled their way through the throng of people as the two headed for the punch bowl.

"Okay, that's one image I _must _get out of my head," Harry said with a snicker, referring to Ron's less than stellar dance moves.

"Hear, hear!"

Harry ladled them up some punch and handed Ginny her cup. Before they took a sip, Hermione came running up to them.

"Harry! Ginny! I just got a letter from the Ministry! They've found my parents and have arranged a portkey for me tomorrow to go get them!"

Ginny squeed and threw an arm around the other girl. "That's great news, Hermione!"

"Ginny, I need your help in deciding what I should wear. It won't take long. You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

"Of course, I don't, Hermione. This is wonderful news. I'm so happy for you!"

Ginny turned to Harry. "You're a sweetheart, love. Here," she said, handing over her cup, "Take this. I'll just get something inside."

Harry laughed as Hermione dragged Ginny away. He started to raise the cup but it was prevented from getting far when Neville stopped to say hello.

"Hey, Neville. So, tell me, how did you and Hannah hook up?"

Neville launched into a humorous tale about him stumbling into the Three Broomsticks one afternoon after a nasty round with a Venomous Tentacula. Hannah had been working the bar for Rosie and they'd hit it off. As he listened, Harry, very thirsty now after all the dancing he'd done with Ginny, raised his cup and downed its contents.

The familiar burn down his throat and warmth in his stomach set off that dragon inside. This time, though, it broke away from its tether and took him over. Harry downed Ginny's punch and refilled the cup, downing it, as well. No matter how much he drank, he wanted more. It was as if he was dying of thirst and someone had come along and given him all the water he could drink. Cupful after cupful passed his lips.

"Uh, thirsty there, Harry?"

"What?" Harry demanded harshly. "I've been pretty busy."

Neville filled a cup for himself and took a cautious sip. The biting liquid burned his tongue and he knew instantly that someone had spiked the punch. He watched Harry worriedly a minute before trying to stop his friend.

"I think you should have something else, Harry. Someone spiked the punch with firewhiskey."

"Yeah, I know that," Harry said as if he thought it was the stupidest thing Neville had ever said. More drink went down. "It's the best thing I've ever tasted. Man, I've been wanting this stuff."

Seeing Harry wasn't going to slow down and puzzled about Harry's comment, Neville motioned over George.

"Hey, you two, what's up?"

"Did you spike the punch, George?"

George blanched and that was enough of an answer for Neville. The round-faced boy stood aside as George struggled to pull Harry away from the table.

"Leave me the hell alone, George!"

"No can do, Harry. You've had quite enough of that."

"No, I haven't," Harry almost moaned. "It's never enough. You don't know how badly I've wanted it and now I have it."

"Come on, Harry," George coaxed, pulling lightly on Harry's arm.

"Get your hands off me!" Harry yelled.

This, of course, called attention to them. Some gaped while others whispered, neither of which escaped Harry's notice.

"What are you looking at?" he yelled to them. "I'm not some freak to be gawked at! You want something to look at? I'll give you something to look at!"

And with that, he yanked up his shirt sleeves, revealing the pink crisscrossing scars on his arms. The collective gasp made Harry even more angry.

"There! Feel better now that you have something really juicy to talk about?"

"Neville," George whispered, while Harry continued ranting at the general crowd, "go get Ginny. She went inside with Hermione. Tell her the punch was spiked."

Neville nodded and ran as fast as he could. His mind whirled as he tried to decipher what had just happened. Well, obviously, Harry was drunk but why did George pale like that when he learned that Harry had some of the spiked drink? And what were those scars? Had he gotten them during the war? It certainly explained why Harry wore long sleeves in the heat of the summer. Running into the Burrow's kitchen, he met Molly first.

"Where's...Ginny?" he panted. "I need...Ginny."

"What's wrong, dear?" Molly asked, growing alarmed at Neville's desperation.

"Punch...spiked...Harry...," was all Neville could get out but it was enough.

He watched the Weasley mother turn white and glance out the back door in anxiety. Turning, she ran into the sitting room and yelled up the stairs.

"GINNY! COME QUICKLY!"

Ginny came tearing down the stairs, Hermione on her heels.

"What is it, Mum?"

"Ginny, someone spiked the punch."

Ginny's eyes went round as she remembered leaving Harry at the punch bowl table. She'd even left him with both of their drinks, just waiting to be consumed.

"Oh, no," she groaned, "after this morning, there's no way he could help himself. This is bad."

She tore off through the house, not even registering Neville's presence, and headed out toward the gathering of people. The wireless still blared music which explained why no one inside the house could hear anything. Forcing her way through, she finally reached Harry.

He was going off about being gawked at like some insect under a specimen jar, whatever that meant. He was so out of it. His words were slurred so it was hard to catch every word. George was trying to simultaneously drag Harry away from the table and tell everyone to mind their own business, neither of which was happening.

"Look, everyone," Ginny pleaded with them, "please go back to what you were doing. You'll get an explanation but let me take care of Harry first."

"I don't need taking care of!" came Harry's angry voice.

Ginny turned back to Harry, shared a look with George, who let go of Harry and began asking around about the culprit who spiked the punch. Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated them to a private spot.

"Get your hands off me!" Harry yelled once they'd landed, losing his balance and stumbling.

"Harry, you're drunk."

"I know, isn't it great?"

"Harry, I know you couldn't help it. I know how much you wanted, no _needed_ it this morning but you fought it off. You can't have just one drink, Harry. There's no such thing as 'just one' for you."

As she spoke, Harry's face grew redder and his eyes began to blaze.

"Lay off, will you! So I had a few. Big deal! Maybe I decided I didn't want to fight it anymore! Maybe I decided I deserved to be able to relax and have fun with my friends! What the hell are you going to do about it? You have no say in what I do!"

"Harry, listen to yourself. This is what it reduces you to. This _isn't_ you. The man I love would never yell at his friends. He'd never do anything to call attention to himself and you've done both in the span of a few minutes."

Ginny reached out to him.

"This _is_ who I am, Ginny! If you can't handle that then you can just shove off!"

Harry put action to words and gave her a healthy shove. Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell, her head making harsh contact with ground. She lay there, eyes closed, not moving. Crimson poured from her head, mixing garishly with her red hair. Stunned, Harry could only stare as his inebriated mind fought to catch up with his eyes. Suddenly, he fell to his knees beside Ginny.

"Ginny?" he called softly, fear beginning to fill his voice. "Oh, love, I'm so sorry."

He reached out to touch her but was afraid to. Unknowingly, he began repeating something from a lifetime ago.

"Please wake up, Ginny. Wake up. Please don't be dead. Please."

Looking around, no one was nearby so he did the only thing he could. He picked her up and Apparated right into the Burrow. Pandemonium ensued at the sight of Harry suddenly appearing with an injured Ginny in his arms.

"Where's Madame Pomfrey?" he yelled.

Someone tried to take Ginny from him but he clung tighter to her.

"Harry, Poppy's already gone. She-,"

That was all Harry needed to know. In an instant he disappeared and reappeared in St. Mungo's emergency room.

"I need some help! Now!"

"You'll have to wait your turn, sir," said a bored witch behind the counter.

"No! She has a head injury! I'm Harry Potter and this is Ginny Weasley. She needs to see a healer _now_!"

Whether it was the fact Ginny had a wound on her head or that _Harry Potter_ had brought her, Harry didn't know and really didn't care. The bored witch immediately jumped into action, took Ginny from him and lay her on a stretcher. Then the witch wheeled Ginny down a hall without turning back. Harry watched her go then, realizing he was again being stared at, he Disapparated.

He didn't go back to the Burrow, however. Instead, he popped back to Grimmauld Place. He stumbled in the hallway until his back was to the wall. Misery overtaking him, he slid down the wall to the floor and sobbed. Drawing his knees up, he wrapped his arms around them. His head fell to his bent knees. Slowly he fell to his side, a ball of shame and wretchedness.

Oooooo

Some time later, utterly numb, Harry got up, raided his hidey hole for some muggle money and left. The first pub he came to he entered. Thankfully, it was dark inside and stank of alcohol. Harry weaved through the tables and found one in the corner. When the waitress came over, he ordered a bottle of whiskey, one hand on his wand in his pocket in case he was going to have to use some persuasion. When she walked away without asking his age, he sighed. Moments later, the bottle and a shot glass appeared on his table. Filling the tiny glass with amber liquid, Harry held it in his hand, thumb caressing the cool glass.

Why was he hesitating? He wanted that drink something fierce so why hadn't he taken it already? It's not like it would change anything. He'd already ruined his chances with Ginny. He'd done the one thing he'd sworn he'd never do again. He didn't deserve her. She deserved a real man. Someone who didn't have all the crap he had weighing him down. He should have known better, really. Everything was going so well. Fate had always been a bitch to him, he really should have known better than to believe she'd let him be happy. He hoped Ginny would be happy.

Sitting there, staring at the liquid the same shade of brown as Ginny's eyes, he began to cry. Grabbing the bottle at the neck, where it flared outward, he pulled it toward him, leaned against it and sobbed.


	14. Taking Them Back

_**I look ahead to all the plans that we made and the dreams that we had**_

_**I'm in a world that tries to take them away but I'm taking them back**_

"Is my daughter here?" asked a panicked Molly of the nurse at the desk. "Her name is Ginevra Weasley."

The nurse looked up at the gathering of redheads before checking her charts.

"Nope, no Ginevra Weasley but we do have a redhead who was brought in by someone claiming to be Harry Potter."

"That's her. That's my Ginny!"

"What do you mean by 'someone claiming to be Harry Potter'?" asked a belligerent Ron.

"Well, for starters, he reeked of firewhiskey. He popped into the emergency room looking very unkempt. Started shouting the instant he showed up. His eyes, though," the nurse shivered, "were wild, desperate, nearly hysterical. I've seen that look many times and it still bothers me. I don't know if it was Harry Potter or not and, to be honest, I really don't care. The girl had an injury to her head and that needed immediate attention."

"Is my baby alright?" Molly asked, trying to turn the conversation back to Ginny. They could talk about Harry later.

"Oh, yes, she'll be fine. As a matter of fact, the young lady is dead set on walking out of here soon. Let me get her room and floor numbers."

A minute later, the nurse returned with the information. "Here you go. Just go through those doors on your right and then up the stairs to her floor."

"Is Harry still here?" asked Ron, concern for his friend etched on his face.

"Oh, no. He disappeared as soon as we took Miss—Weasley, was it?-back to see a doctor. And before you ask, no, he didn't say where he was going."

The group of redheads and Fleur, Hermione stayed behind with her classmates, quickly scrambled up the stairs, as there were just too many of them to cram into an elevator. By the time they reached the proper floor, several of them were out of breath but it didn't stop them from continuing. A loud voice led them to Ginny's room.

"-and I told _you_ that I won't be staying! I don't need to. It was a simple bump on the head. For the love of Merlin, I've had worse playing Quidditch!"

The door opened to reveal Ginny's friends and family. The harried nurse looked gratefully in their direction.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into her," she said before quickly disappearing.

Molly rushed to her daughter and crushed her in one of Molly's well-known hugs.

"Oh, dear, we were so worried."

"Mum, I'm fine. Really. I just want to go home."

Glancing around, she noticed one face missing, the one she most wanted to see.

"Where's Harry?"

When no one met her eye, panic began to set in. "Where's Harry!"

Ron shuffled his feet and muttered, "We don't know."

"You don't know?" Ginny yelled incredulously. Her gaze jumped from person to person, growing more angry with each passing face. "Did you even bother looking for him?"

The guilty expressions spoke volumes. "I cannot believe this!" Her anger in full swing now. "I cannot believe that not one of you bothered to see how he's doing! Not one! He wasn't himself earlier and you all know that! He's in a very dangerous and vulnerable position right now!"

"I'd say he's a bit dangerous to be around right now."

"Charlie!" admonished the Weasley matriarch.

Ginny turned her attention to Charlie, gaping at what she'd just heard. "How can you say that? You've been witness to everything he's been dealing with. You've helped bring him home, helped him clean up, showing him what's it's like to be a part of a loving family and now you're going to turn on him? Just like that?"

"He hurt you, Ginny," Charlie said firmly, his own temper beginning to rise.

"Not intentionally! And you _know_, just as well as I do, that he's holed up somewhere beating himself up over it!"

Ginny threw the covers off and stood. "I need to go find him before he falls back into his old pattern of behavior."

"You're not going anywhere near him until he's had a chance to sober up."

Ginny turned on Charlie again. "Try and stop me," she said, voice deadly calm "I'm _not_ giving up on him. We knew there would be ups and downs. This is one of those downs. If it hadn't been for the spiked punch, we wouldn't even be here."

"Maybe not today," Charlie conceded, "but after what happened earlier this morning, it was only a matter of time."

"He can't help the cravings, Charlie. You don't take just the good in a person; you take the bad, too. If you can't accept him the way he is, then I don't want you at our wedding."

She nodded at his look of disbelief. "That's right. You heard me. I'm still marrying him because I love him and I know he loves me." She looked around at those gathered. "Anyone else have any objections?"

"Mum, Dad," Charlie pleaded, "say something! You know this isn't right."

"Charlie," Arthur turned to his son and placed a quieting hand on the younger man's shoulder, "this is really between Harry and Ginny. This is their lives and we don't really have a say in it."

"But he's-,"

"He's suffering, Charlie," Arthur cut in, "from something we can never understand. What we _can_ do is show him that we'll always be there for him. I've never given up on him and I don't plan to now. He needs us more than ever during these moments."

Seeing he hadn't quite convinced his second son, Arthur tried another tact. "Would you separate yourself from George if it had been he to have developed this issue?"

"Well, no, George is my brother."

"Haven't you told me before," Arthur said quietly, "that you'd come to think of Harry as another brother?"

Charlie sighed. "Yeah, alright. I get it." Turning to his sister, he said, "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just a little worried about everything."

Ginny scrutinized her second oldest brother before giving him a hug. "I know but you don't need to worry. Harry and I will work through this."

Picking up her wand from the bedside table, she slipped on her shoes. She was ever so thankful the hospital staff hadn't forced her into one of those overly revealing gowns.

"Bill, Charlie, will you come help me find him?"

"Of course, Firefly," Bill said, using his old nickname for her.

"Charlie?"

Charlie studied his little sister. Well, _ younger_ sister, anyway. She wasn't little anymore. She'd become a young woman when he wasn't looking. A young woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. Harry was what she wanted and, if Charlie was being honest, Harry was probably the only one who could match her, even with his issues.

He smiled. "Yes, I'll go. Let's go bring the bloke back, shall we?"

ooooooo

_CRASH! _Harry roused from his stupor to see a waitress at a table to his left picking up remnants of dropped bottles and mugs. He watched the woman apologize profusely to the patrons and scurry off to refill their drinks. Avoiding eye contact with the unfortunate customers, he glanced down. In the walkway between their table and his own lay a long, brown skinny piece of beer bottle that had been missed. Without hesitation, Harry corralled it with his foot and then picked it up. For a long time, he just held it, turning it over and over in his hands, contemplating his next move. Running the pad of his thumb over one of the edges, he tested the glass's cutting ability. Satisfied with the answer, he placed it on the table next to the full shot glass and fiddled with it.

Temptation rose its ugly head and Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he massaged the ache that had sprung up behind them. Two voices warred in his head. The "good" voice, Ginny's voice, reminded him of all he stood to lose if he went down that road again. The other voice, one that sounded much like Riddle's voice, reminded him of what he'd just done to the woman he'd supposedly loved. It sneered at him for wanting so desperately to still be loved by the only real family he'd known.

Several times, he let go of the glass only to have his hand drawn back to it time and again. He couldn't NOT touch it and that knowledge scared him. So he sat, alone with his fears, a full bottle of whiskey, a shot glass filled with the amber liquid and a seemingly innocuous brown piece of glass all within arm's reach. Propping his elbow on the table, he continued to massage his eyes, his temples, then forehead.

Oooooooo

After having searched Grimmauld Place and the park where Harry had been known to haunt, the three Weasleys decided a trip into the business section nearest number 12 was necessary. The first pub they saw, the three exchanged worried glances. After a brief but heated argument regarding who was going to enter said establishment, the trio entered. The dim lighting, making it practically dark inside, had them blinded and they had to wait for their eyes to adjust. The place reeked of alcohol and music blared from some unseen system. Rowdy laughter and rude or salacious comments warred with the music. A few minutes later, the Weasley trio stepped up to the bar.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender, a young brunette asked Bill, eying his long hair and earring flirtatiously.

"Some information, I hope," Bill replied, fully aware of her attentions. He leaned closer, resting his folded arms on the bar and spoke softly. "I'm looking for a friend. He's young, got messy black hair, green eyes, wears round black glasses and is about this tall," Bill held a hand up to his shoulder.

"Oh, I think I know exactly who you mean."

She nodded her head in the direction of a back corner. "He's been sitting there for a long time. Never does anything, never says anything."

The three Weasleys turned and spied a hunched figure, bottle of whiskey and two other objects on the table in front of him. Ginny made to head for him but Charlie held her back. She rounded on her brother but he held her firm, his gaze returning to the young woman tending the bar.

"How many bottles has he had?"

"Oh, that's the only one."

Charlie looked skeptical at this then asked another question. "Okay, maybe the better question is, how many drinks has he had?"

The brunette shook her head. "None."

Now Charlie really looked skeptical. "You mean, he's been sitting there this entire time with a full bottle of whiskey and hasn't touched it? How can you be so sure?"

"I've watched him the moment he came in here. Could tell something was troubling him, as if he'd suffered some great loss or something. He ordered the bottle. I gave it to him but kept my eye on him in case something were to happen. Sometimes it's those types who cause the most trouble. I thought it odd that he poured a drink but never touched it."

Ginny smiled her thanks to the woman and disappeared from the bar before either brother could react. Charlie started to go after her but Bill stopped him.

"They need to work this out, alone," the eldest Weasley son said softly.

After a moment, Charlie nodded and, turning back to the pretty brunette, ordered his own shot of whiskey.

Oooooooo

The sound of someone sliding onto the booth's seat across from him had Harry looking up and his jaw dropping. There, as if he'd conjured her himself, sat the one thing he'd been missing. As if he expected her to disappear at any moment, his hand slowly raised but stopped halfway to her so she reached out and took that hand in hers and raised it to her face, kissing its palm.

Within seconds, Harry lost his composure, breaking down completely.

"You're okay," he whispered repeatedly. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me."

Ginny quickly switched sides and gathered him in her arms, tucking his head against her shoulder, rocking gently from side to side, her hands gently rubbing his back.

"There's nothing to forgive, Harry. Nothing's changed. I still love you. Nothing you could do could ever make me stop."

Her words were a soothing balm to his battered soul. Eventually the tears were spent once more. His thumb grazing her cheek, Harry lifted his head to look into Ginny's eyes. What he found there reassured him. Without thinking about his actions or his audience, he kissed her, a single kiss full of reverence. After a long moment, he pulled back to look into her eyes again.

"Are you sure? Life with me won't be easy."

Ginny chuckled. "Harry, life with you isn't _ever_ easy. But yes, I'm sure."

A smile tugged at one corner of Harry's mouth. Ginny wiped away any remnants of his tears before standing and tugging on his hand.

"Come on, let's get home."

Harry complied, pulled out a few bills and tossed them onto the table. Hands tightly clasped, the two weaved their way to the bar where Bill and Charlie waited. Harry saw them and his steps immediately faltered. _Oh boy, I'm in for it now. Well, let's get it over with._ He picked up his pace again, chin subconsciouly rising, shoulders straightening, ready to face whatever the two Weasleys wanted to dish out. He was led outside and around the building into an alley. Not able to take the silence anymore, Harry spoke up.

"Look, I know I screwed up, okay? I'm likely to do it again. Totally unintentionally, mind you. I love Ginny and she loves me. We're going to be together whether you like it or not. If you have a problem with that, I'd rather know now."

Charlie winced slightly at Harry's choice of words. The young man had no idea how close to Charlie's conversation with Ginny and the elder Weasleys he'd come. He turned back to Harry and really looked at him. The messy black hair was even messier than before, as if a hand went through it often. He saw the evidence of the teen's earlier tears in his red nose, puffy eyes and the dried streaks on his cheeks. What affected Charlie the most, however, was the look in the familiar green eyes. A myriad of emotions warred for dominance in their depths. Determination in being with Ginny, shame at what had happened, fear he wouldn't be accepted back into the Weasley family, Charlie could see it all.

"Harry," he sighed, "There's nothing you could do that would ever warrant you not being part of the family, absolutely nothing. What happened earlier, well, it happened. There's not much more that needs to be said. I know it was unintentional. You have your problems but you're working through them and that's what counts. While running away like you did probably wasn't the best of ideas, especially running to a pub, I admire the self-control you showed by not taking another drink. That says a lot."

Harry nodded, unable to speak past the lump suddenly growing in his throat. He looked to Bill to see if the eldest Weasley sibling shared his younger brother's sentiments.

"Harry," Bill said with a slight smile, "Charlie took the words right out of my mouth. I know you love Ginny. One would have to be blind not to see it. And I believe it's that love that will see you through all this. There's no one I'd rather see Ginny with. No one else could stand her."

Ginny punched her brother in the arm making Bill wince and Harry smile, then chuckle.

"Why didn't you take that drink, Harry?" asked Charlie. "Why not just keep going?"

Harry took a moment to find the right words. "I guess it was coming face to face with how it affects me, how dangerous I can be. I did the one thing I swore I'd never do and I hate myself for it."

"So why a pub, then?"

"To slay another demon, maybe. To prove to myself that I am strong enough to resist it. I won't lie and say I wasn't tempted to just say 'to hell with it' and have that first shot but I just couldn't. I've worked too hard and come too far to throw it away like that. I kept thinking about the future I wanted so badly, a future with Ginny, and I wanted to try to convince her to take me back."

"That's good to hear, Harry," Bill said with a smile.

"One thing before we go, Harry," Ginny started. "All our friends are probably still at the house. Hermione stayed with them when everyone else went to Mungo's. You should probably tell them _something._ They're your friends. They're not going to judge you."

Not liking the idea of spilling his guts to his classmates didn't mean it could be avoided. He owed them after everything. He had no clue what he'd said to them, he just remembered ranting at them. Nodding, his reluctant acceptance, the three apparated back to The Burrow.

After greeting the other Weasleys and _again_ apologizing for his actions, he headed out to the backyard where Hermione had kept their friends entertained somehow. His pulse kicked into high gear and he started to shake. The instant he was noticed, the group fell silent. On the verge of running back into the house, Ginny's hand slipped into his and it gave him the courage to face the crowd.

"Um," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, "hi, guys." He looked, in turn, at each of them. "I owe you all an apology for my actions earlier."

Ginny led Harry to a couple seats in the small circle of friends, Ron and Hermione somewhere to his left. Smiling, Ginny leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, encouraging him to continue without saying a word.

"Okay, well," Harry said, staring into space, "I guess some backstory is needed, here. After the battle," Harry visibly shuddered and closed his eyes, fighting off the panic that wanted to rise up and take over. "After the battle, I had a hard time dealing with it all. The deaths of classmates, the deaths of those I cared about, of those who had died trying to help me. It was too much and I didn't want to feel it anymore."

Here, Harry stopped and wrestled his emotions under control. He took a few deep breaths to fight back the lump in his throat. Ginny's hand in his and her voice in his ear whispering how much she loved him helped him gather himself again.

"I didn't want to feel the pain anymore," he said in a stronger voice, one that carried easily. "so I took the easy way out. The place I was living in had some firewhiskey and I drank it, kept it filled or tried to. I did run out once and went into some muggle liquor store and got more. Even used the Imperius Curse on the proprietor to guarantee I'd get it. I came to rely on it to keep the anger, the sadness, the guilt and shame, to keep it all away, and it worked. It kept me numb. Unfortunately, that's not all it did. It got to the point where I not only needed it emotionally, but physically, too. It became an addiction."

His gaze flitted to all the faces gathered there to gauge their reactions. Some were surprised, some concerned and some didn't show anything but not one face showed disgust or derision. This, too, gave him the courage to go on.

"Then I finally got some sense knocked into me," Harry chuckled wryly and kissed the back of Ginny's hand, "and I'd been sober for awhile now. It hasn't been easy. I haven't always been the nicest person around, especially when a craving hits. I'll always have those. Sometimes it's so bad, all I can think about is how soon I can have a drink in my hand. Other times, the cravings are non-existent."

"And I went and screwed that up," an Irish accented voice came from Harry's left. "Harry, mate, I'm bloody sorry. If I had known-"

"No, don't be, Seamus. You couldn't have known. I've been working through it. I just can't have any alcoholic drink. Not even a little bit."

"Not even butterbeer?" Seamus asked.

"No. If it has any alcohol whatsoever, I can't have it. You saw what can happen if I do get some into my system."

"So that article in the Daily Prophet about you seeing a mind healer was true? I thought it was just Skeeter making things up as usual."

Harry turned to his right. Parvati had asked the question, her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Yes, for once, Skeeter got something right," Harry said with a dry laugh.

"Um, Harry," a timid, feminine voice directly across from Harry spoke up, "those marks, on your arms..."

Harry sighed. He was afraid he'd revealed that secret, too.

"If you'd rather not say," Dennis piped up, attempting to give Harry an out, "that's okay."

Harry glanced up at Dennis then Hannah, then Neville. Making up his mind, he launched into a brief explanation of his scars.

"I was in a bad place then. When the firewhiskey didn't seem to help anymore, I had to find another way to let out the pain. I started cutting myself," he paused for a few seconds at the gasps this information brought, "when the pain and pressure got to be too much. I didn't have any other outlet. Then I started doing it so that I'd feel _something_. It's a huge contradiction, I know. I don't do it anymore. Through my sessions with the mind healer, I've been given some better ways of handling things."

Silence descended upon the group as each of Harry's friends contemplated what they'd learned. Harry found himself amazed at the light feeling settling into his chest. It was as if he'd been freed of a huge weight wrapped tightly around him keeping him down. A brilliant smile snaked its way across his face and he turned to Ginny. Leaning down, he gave her a kiss. When they parted, he looked into her eyes.

"Shall we tell them the rest?"

"We should so everyone can be available to come."

Harry looked around at all his friends, every single one of them had fought in the Battle, except Dennis. Harry was proud to call these people his friends. When it mattered most, they were all there, fighting alongside him. And Dennis, well, Harry knew Dennis would always mean something a little different but no less important. It had been Dennis, after all, who had explained to him, who had helped him understand that things happened and sometimes there was no rhyme or reason and no one worth Harry's time would hold anything against Harry. Dennis had coined the phrase 'toy soldiers' in regards to himself, Ron and Hermione but Harry believed it fit all of them. Dennis may not have fought in the Final Battle but he had fought against Umbridge's 'new regime'.

"Well," Harry spoke up again. "We have some good news."

They waited until they had everyone's attention before letting the news spill.

"We're getting married!" Harry and Ginny said simultaneously.

"And we want you all to be there," Harry finished.

Loud cheers, claps and whistles sounded. Parvati, Padma, Lavender, Hannah and Luna sprang from their chairs and engulfed Ginny. Hermione, already having known this, sedately walked over to her friend, a smile on her face. The gaggle of girls drifted away from Harry and the other guys, chattering away about wedding details.

Harry found himself congratulated with pats on the back or shoulder from Neville, Seamus, and Dennis. Dean hung back a second, waiting for the way to be clear, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Harry," he said quietly and waited for Harry's attention. He continued when Harry turned his way. "Our sixth year, well, I knew it wasn't me she wanted." He stole a quick glance at Ginny. "It was very obvious to me _who_ she wanted. I was jealous of you."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Dean stopped him.

"Let me finish. I was jealous of the fact that, though she was with me, she told you everything. I watched you two whenever you were together and I learned something. I realized you liked her, too."

Dean laughed at Harry's gobsmacked expression. "It took someone who was already there to understand the look you'd get in your eyes. I couldn't stop myself from lording it over you. I went out of my way to hold her hand, put my arm around her or kiss her when you were around. It was a perverse kind of pleasure to know I had something you wanted. Then she dumped me. I don't blame her, not now. It never would have worked. Then you went and kissed her in the common room."

Dean chuckled. "I found myself jealous again which is why that glass broke. I actually squeezed it too hard. She was happy with you, though. She shined, something she didn't do with me. And you, you seemed lighter than I'd ever seen you. I knew then that you two would end up together."

Dean shuffled forward and offered Harry his hand. "So, congratulations, Harry. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that. You didn't have to tell me all of that, you know."

"Yeah, I think I did. I feel like I did, anyway. To clear the air, so to speak."

Harry shrugged and shook Dean's hand.

"So when's the big day, Harry?" asked Neville.

"Well, Ginny and I have decided not to wait any longer than we have to so it'll be just after her birthday, August 12th."

"That quickly?" Seamus asked then an evil grin crossed his face. "Can't wait to do some shagging? Or are you doing that already?"

"_Oi! _That's my sister you're talking about!"

Ron followed the statement with a cuff to the back of Seamus' head. "No one needs to know that, least of all _me_!"

Laughter at Ron's statement broke out and eventually the guys caught back up to the girls. Someone turned the wireless back on and the party resumed a little while longer. Molly brought out some more punch stating she'd placed a charm over the bowl that prevented anyone from placing _anything _into it whether it was liquid or solid_, _minus the empty ladle.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed the rest of his party. For a day that had started out bad and had gone to worse, it ended quite pleasantly.

Ooooooo

_**THE SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD A DRUNKARD!**_

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

_Several eyewitnesses claim to have seen Harry Potter apparate into St. Mungo's emergency room yesterday, yelling for help. His appearance was a disheveled one. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes. He was covered in blood but the most noticeable thing about him was the stench of alcohol that seemed to emanate from him. The same eyewitnesses claim he had a wild look in his eyes. In his arms, he carried the limp body of his ex-girlfriend, Ginerva Weasley, bleeding profusely from a head wound. He delivered the girl into a professional's care and disapparated. He was later spotted entering a muggle pub, presumably to get more drink, while the girl lay in a hospital bed, possibly dying._

_Is this the kind of role model we want for our kids? Do we really want them to emulate this destructive behavior? If our so-called Savior has resorted to this, I, for one, would prefer him to just stay hidden._

That was the headline that greeted the wizarding world the next day. The moment Harry saw it he knew he was going to have do something. He was going to have to make an appearance and tell his side of the story. He couldn't hide any longer. The _whoosh_ of the Floo activating caught his attention and he was surprised when Healer Emenda stepped out.

"Healer Emenda, what are you doing here? It's not our normal day."

The older woman smiled at the greeting but noticed the paper in his hand. _So he _has _seen the Daily Prophet this morning. He's come a long way in such a short time. I'm utterly amazed. _She pulled something out of her pocket.

"I came to give you something, Harry. And before you ask, yes, I know about what happened yesterday. Molly Floo called me while you were being located. I told her to call me again if I was needed. I never received that call."

"Oh," Harry hadn't even thought about anyone calling his mind healer. Then he remembered the previous article written by Skeeter intimating that someone from her office had talked. "How can I trust you? Someone talked to Skeeter about me."

"Harry, I'm sorry about that. I've done some digging and found out who it was. That person has been fired and won't work in that field any more. I should have apologized sooner, I know. Please don't throw away all the hard work you've done so far because of one person's indiscretion."

Eventually, he nodded in assention. "You said you have something for me?"

"Yes, I do. I missed your birthday as I had sessions all day so I brought it today. I thought it might help."

She handed over a small, square package wrapped in red and gold and watched as he gingerly unwrapped it.

Opening the lid, Harry found a necklace nestled inside the box. The 'chain' was actually a black satin cord with a black bead just above a deep violet crystal pendant. The cylindrical crystal was about the width of his pinky and about the length of the tip of his pinky to his knuckle and had a flattened end which a hole had been drilled to loop the cord through and a sharp point at the other end.

"This is an amethyst crystal, Harry. It'll help get you through the worst moments of your addiction, lending support on those days you have bad cravings. It also will help calm you in times of great stress. It is not meant to be worn constantly but when you feel yourself slipping and needing some extra support. In light of the incident yesterday and the headline today, I thought you could use it. The cord is adjustable simply by sliding the bead up or down. It's best worn over your heart."

Harry slipped the cord over his head and adjusted its length so the crystal rested over his heart.

"It needs to be worn against the skin."

"Oh." Harry quickly tucked it under his shirt and instantly felt it warm. "Wow, it's getting warm."

"It's working, then. Just remember, don't wear it all the time. It's meant as an aid, not a crutch."

"I'll remember. Thanks. I was just thinking that I was going to have to give an interview or something to counter what Skeeter has been saying."

Emenda smiled. "Well, then, I guess this comes at a good time. When you do decide to do that, just remember that _you're _the one in control. You don't have to answer anything you feel uncomfortable answering." She waited a beat for his nod of acceptance. "I need to get back to my office. If you need me for anything, Harry, don't hesitate to call me."

"I won't. Thanks, again."

In a flash of green fire, the Healer was gone. Not two seconds later, the Floo activated again and Kingsley stepped out of the fireplace.

"Harry! Just the person I was hoping to see," the Minister said in his booming voice, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"Better, sir."

"That's good, Harry. Glad to hear it."

Harry could tell the man sincerely meant it. Before he could say anything else, a voice called out.

"Kingsley," Molly called from the kitchen doorway, "come join us for breakfast."

"Well, don't mind if I do. Thank you, Molly." To Harry he said, "It's never a good idea to turn down Molly's cooking."

Harry snickered at the truthfulness of that statement. Leading the way into the kitchen, Harry sat next to Ginny and showed her the pendant he'd been given.

"So, Harry," Kingsley began after finding a seat at the table, "I'm assuming you've seen the Prophet this morning."

"Oh, Kinglsey, let's not discuss such matters now," admonished Molly with a disgusted glance at the newspaper.

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," Harry interjected. "I don't mind. I've figured that I'm going to have to do a public interview to counter all the rubbish being said." He shrugged. "I'm going to have to show my face sometime, right?"

"Maybe so, Harry, but it's still not proper table talk."

Kingsley turned to Hermione. "Still taking that international portkey at one o'clock, right?"

"Of course!" The bushy-haired brunette practically jumped up and down. "I'm so excited but also terribly nervous. What if they hate me for what I did to them?"

"They won't hate you, dear," Molly chimed in.

"That's one of the reasons you'll have someone with you," Kinglsey said, "Not only to reverse the memory charm but also to explain what it was like this past year. I'm sure everything will turn out fine."

Minor chit-chat covered the remainder of breakfast. Once done, Kingsley, once again, turned to Harry.

"How soon would you like to do that interview, Harry?"

"How soon could you get a press conference together?"

Surprised, Kingsley studied the young man before him. The last time he'd seen Harry, the teen had been in a bad way. He'd been rather pale and thin and had suffered a panic attack just at the sound of Kingsley's voice. The boy's eyes, though, had been the worst. When Harry had looked up at him, they had begged him not to force the issue. The thought of making a public appearance then had been out of the question. But now, Harry's frame, while still smallish, had filled out nicely so he appeared wiry rather than severely ill. His complexion had a healthy glow. Harry's green eyes glittered with life now. They still held shadows, they always would, Kingsley knew, but now there was joy in them, too. Another thing Kingsley had noticed was Harry's ability to laugh, a genuine laugh. The young man had reconnected with loved ones and it had had a profound effect on him.

"Well, if you're serious about doing it quickly, I imagine I could get it set up rather easily."

"Good. Maybe the sooner I get it over with, the sooner I can show my face without getting hounded everywhere I go."

Kingsley chuckled but warned, "Don't count on that, Harry. You're going to be followed for awile, unfortunately. The best I can do is keep the reporters away from private property."

"Oh, well, it was a nice thought, anyway," Harry half-jokingly replied.

After deciding to have the press conference right after Hermione left on her trip to retrieve her parents, Kingsley left the Burrow to get things started. Harry almost wished he hadn't been so quick to decide but he knew he'd get no peace if he didn't just get it over with.

Ooooooo

When it was time, the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry Floo'd to the Ministry. Having already said their good-byes to Hermione, the group parted from the brunette as the girl headed off to catch her portkey. Across the atrium, a huge gathering of reporters stood, scribbling away while someone stood on the dais giving one reporter, in particular, a dressing down. Harry immediately slowed his steps, heart already racing at the thought of facing them. He would have gone into total panic mode if it hadn't been for the effects of the amethyst crystal around his neck and Ginny's hand squeezing his in support.

They got a little closer and Harry realized with a shock that it was Dennis on the platform. Bits and pieces of what the younger teen said drifted to Harry's ears.

"...should be ashamed...after everything he's done...has been affected more than you'll ever know..."

Then Harry's group was easily within earshot. Harry found himself glad to be surrounded by Weasleys. Now would not have been the best moment to have been noticed. Harry doubted he'd get out of that group alive.

"Yes, toy soldiers. That's what I said," Dennis was saying. "He fought because no one else would. He fought for what he believed in. He didn't have any training. He wasn't given the tools he needed in order to deal with the aftermath. Just as a toy isn't meant to take the place of the real thing, Harry shouldn't have had to do the job that fully trained witches and wizards were supposed to do. But because no one was willing, Harry did it and he's paying for it."

Dennis glared at them all, especially towards a tall, lithe woman with blonde ringlets and garish glasses. The witch dressed in outlandish clothing, used an acid green quick quotes quill and had a most unpleasant smirk on her face.

Harry dreaded the thought of Rita Skeeter being in the crowd of reporters but he really couldn't exclude her. Taking strength from the sea of red surrounding him, especially from the one tightly gripping his hand and caressing his arm, and the warmth of the crystal resting over his heart, he slowly approached Kingsley at the back of the crowd. Together, the group surreptiously made their way to the dais, using Dennis' distraction as cover, for the kid was still thrashing the press for its lack of morals.

Upon reaching the front, the little group was noticed and Dennis' words were drowned out by the questions being thrown at Harry, flashes from cameras blinding them all. Kingsley stepped forward, conjured a long table and chairs then conjured water pitchers and glasses, filling them and placing them at regular intervals. Once that task was complete, he turned to the horde of people, his hand in the air for silence.

"We all know why we're here," his deep voice rang out, "so let's act with some dignity and decorum. Remember, you're here only because Harry has decided to speak to you all. If you, at any time, disrespect him or anyone else, you _will _be removed from the atrium. You may ask anything you wish but that won't guarantee an answer. If Harry declares a topic off-limits, respect his wishes."

Murmuring spread throughout those assembled. "One question will be asked at a time with Harry choosing whom he wishes to hear from and you will remain quiet for the answer. There's no reason for shouting like madmen. One final thing," he said, staring pointedly at Skeeter, "if anything but the truth is printed or even hinted at, I will personally see to it that the reporter never works in the business again."

The tall black man waited a moment to be sure his warning had sunk in before turning things over to Harry, motioning him and his 'escorts' forward. He stood to the back of the raised platform as Harry and the others took their seats.

They were about to get started when several Floos activated at once causing everyone on the platform to pull their wands, no one quicker than Harry. Neville, Luna, Hannah, Parvati, Padma, Lavender, Seamus and Dean tumbled out in a hurry and rushed to the platform. The group of friends climbed the stairs, joining Dennis in standing behind Harry and the Weasleys.

"You didn't think we'd let you go through this alone, did you, Harry?"

Harry could only stare at Neville, speechless. Then his gaze met the gazes of his other friends. The all nodded their heads in agreement of what Neville had said. Harry felt his eyes water at their support and it took two tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he nodded his thanks to each of them. Bolstered by those willing to stand with him, Harry turned back to the awaiting group and began his explanation of his recent actions.

"So you _do_ feel responsible for the suffering of so many?" asked a smarmy Skeeter, once Harry had explained why he had turned to alcohol to begin with.

Harry stared at the witch in consternation. "That's one of the issues I'm working through. I'm learning to put the blame where it belongs, with Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

Pointedly ignoring her fellow reporters' reactions to hearing the Dark Lord's name, she trounced on Harry's statement.

"Learning? Learning how? Seeing a professional?"

Harry sighed. He hadn't wanted to get into it all but he knew Skeeter wouldn't quit.

"Yes, I've been getting help from a mind healer. She's helped me a lot."

A fury of scratching came from the audience as quills filled pages of parchment with that bit of information. Harry took the moment of relative silence and continued on to what had happened on his birthday.

"So you openly admit to hurting someone? Someone you supposedly care for?"

This time it wasn't Rita Skeeter asking the question but Harry got the impression from her expression, one of morbid delight at these details, that she was exactly the same as Skeeter.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry answered her. "None of you can understand what it's like. My body has come to rely on alcohol, to actually _need_ it, to crave it. I will forever be fighting those cravings. I take full responsibility for that. I was the one who made the decision to drink. Yesterday, I had a bad time of it, before the party, I mean. The cravings were particularly strong and I nearly gave in. Then, at my party, someone, unaware of my addiction, spiked the punch. Once I had that first drink, I couldn't stop."

Even with his back to his friends, Harry could feel the shame radiating off Seamus. He just hoped no one else could see it. Tempted though he was to, again, reassure his Irish friend, Harry knew the press would jump all over it and Harry refused to let them drag Seamus' name through the mud.

"Ginny and I had an argument which led to her injury. Yes, I pushed her. She understands, though, that I was out of control. She doesn't hold me responsible."

The mass of faces and cameras turned to Ginny and she nodded. "That's right, I don't. Harry had no more control over himself than any of us would over a dragon. Well, except for Charlie since he works with them but you get my point. That's what alcohol can do to a person, especially when that person is addicted and has gone without it for any length of time. The injury ended up being a simple cut on my head. Head wounds are notorious bleeders so it looked worse than it was."

Lifting their clasped hands so she could place a light kiss on the back of Harry's hand, her eyes on the man beside her as she spoke to the crowd.

"I know he loves me. I love him just as much. Together we can get through anything."

Harry couldn't help it. Ignoring everyone else, he leaned forward and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on Ginny's lips. Flashes blinded all those not otherwise occupied but neither Harry or Ginny noticed. At last, they parted smiling sheepishly.

"Mr. Potter?" a timid voice asked hesitantly, raising her hand in order to be seen.

Harry nodded for her to continue. "You said this addiction has become a physical problem. Can the healers not do anything?"

"Good question. Unfortunately, no. There's just some things magic can't fix. This happens to be one of them."

Seeing her confusion, Harry went on to explain. "Everyone knows about Gilderoy Lockhart, what happened to him, I mean." Harry ignored Ron's squirm of discomfort. "No magic in the world can fix what went wrong. Some things are just too delicate to be tampered with. That's why a good amount of us have to wear glasses. It's why some professional Quidditch players have become paralyzed or partially paralyzed due to injuries to their spines. My dependency has gone so deep that it's affected me on the most basic of levels. There's just no getting around it now."

The reporter looked only slightly less confused and Harry couldn't help wishing Hermione was there to explain it better. He didn't mind her leaving. She needed reunite with her own family. He understood that, for her, the war wouldn't be over until she had her parents back. Besides, _he_ was the one who had decided to do this at the same time as her portkey. He only had himself to blame.

"Suffice it to say," Harry finished, "that no, magic can't fix me."

"Mr. Potter, where were you last year? Many people believe you were hiding while families were being attacked, loved ones being lost, children being kidnapped. Care to explain?"

"All I'm going to say on that is that I was doing something for Dumbledore, something he'd started before he'd died, something that needed doing if Voldemort was ever going to be vulnerable."

Again, the mass seemed to shudder at the mere mention of the Dark Lord's name and it irked Harry.

"Look, you need to get used to hearing his name. Better yet, get used to saying it. It's that kind of mentality that led to Voldemort's rise to begin with. If you just can't bring yourself to say it then at least call him by his _real_ name. Tom Riddle, Jr. Maybe this will help. His father was a Muggle."

Incredulous gasps met that tidbit of information. Harry nodded. "That's right, a Muggle. The one who spouted off about prizing purity of blood was, himself, a half-blood."

"How do you know that?" asked one from the crowd.

"Dumbledore," Harry said and left it at that.

Harry answered a few more questions then ended the meeting. He begged off returning to the Burrow saying he had something he needed to do at Gringotts. It took some persuading but the Weasleys finally let him go. After promising Ginny he wouldn't be long, he disappeared into the Floo.

Thankfully, he made a graceful exit from the fireplace into The Leaky Caudron. Before anyone could recognize him, Harry headed straight for the back exit leading to the brick wall. Briefly, he wished he'd brought his Cloak but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. Looking around, he spotted an old ratty shirt. Quickly, he transfigured the shirt into a cap and bulled the bill low over his eyes so it hid part of his face. Then he tapped the sequence of brickes and entered Diagon Alley.

There were still some damaged buildings but, for the most part, Diagon Alley had recovered. More shops were open now and people took their time shopping. It was a stark contrast to how it had been the last time Harry was there and it made him feel even happier knowing things were returning to normal, that people were recovering and returning to their lives.

Rushing along towards Gringotts, Harry ducked through the throngs of shoppers, not making eye contact with anyone. Finally, he reached his destination and slipped inside. He met with one of the goblins, intent on settling any debts accrued when he, Ron, and Hermione had escaped on their security dragon only to be told that any debts had been paid using convicted Death Eater accounts. Free of that worry, he asked to be taken to his vault.

Once there, Harry went inside and, for the first time, truly looked around. Not only was there money, but old tomes, jewelry, tapestries and paintings were haphazardly placed around the room. Taking a moment to appreciate what was there, a pang of sadness echoed in his heart. He would have traded it all in a heartbeat for just a little time with his parents. He drew in a shaky breath telling himself there wasn't any point dwelling on it.

Finally coming across what he'd been hoping to find, he searched among the items until he found one he thought would be perfect. With a wide smile, he slipped it into it's box, refilled his money bag then left. By the time he reached The Leaky Cauldron to Floo back to the Burrow, he was whistling.


	15. It's Been Awhile, I Can Hold My Head Up

_**It's been awhile**_

_**Since I could hold my head up high**_

"Get everything taken care of?" Ginny asked upon Harry's return to the Burrow.

"I did."

"Well?" she asked when it became obvious he wasn't going to say anything else.

Harry grinned, expression full of mischief. "You'll see."

With that, he gave Ginny a quick kiss before slipping up to his room, all the while enjoying the look of exasperation on his love's face. Life was good again. Inhaling deeply, he thanked his lucky stars for having survived his confrontation with Riddle, for having a family who loved him just as much as he loved them, but mostly he was thankful for Ginny, for her love and faith in him. If not for her, Harry knew he wouldn't be alive. He couldn't wait to show her how much she meant to him. Remembering to remove the crystal from around his neck, he hung off one corner of the mirror.

Ooooo

A little while later, Andromeda brought Teddy over to finally meet his godfather. Harry, not having any experience with babies, was terrified to hold him. Ginny merely shoved Harry into a chair and Andromeda gently handed over Teddy, showing Harry how to support Teddy's head. After that, the two disappeared, leaving Harry alone with Teddy. Harry took one look at his godson and nearly cried. In the baby's blue-gray gaze, he could see Remus' old soul staring back at him. In a fleeting instant, Harry saw Tonks' grin. Harry sat in his chair, Teddy resting on his legs, both Harry's hands supporting Teddy's head and quietly began to speak.

"Hey, Teddy. My name is Harry. I'm your godfather. I knew your parents. They asked me to look after you for them."

Harry had to swallow several times before the lump in his throat would disappear. His voice, though, shook occasionally.

"I'll tell you all about your Mum and Dad, I promise. You'll never be left wondering about them. They loved you, you know. Even though they're not here now, they're still with you. Always. We'll keep them alive in our hearts. I'll show you every memory I have of them so you'll know their voices and can see what kind of people they were."

Harry sniffed and swiped at the tear that had slid down his cheek. Teddy batted his open hand against Harry's lowered cheek as if comforting him. Then Teddy gave another Tonks grin and grabbed Harry's glasses.

"Oh no you don't," Harry said as he gently pried the tiny hand open.

His brilliant new toy taken away, Teddy began to whimper and squirm. Glancing around and seeing no one in sight, Harry thought quickly. Taking out his wand, he performed an impervious charm on his glasses and made them unbreakable before handing them over. Happy once again, Teddy promptly hushed and tried to eat an earpiece.

Oooo

"It's good that you brought Teddy over, Andromeda," Molly said while sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea. "Harry needed this."

Molly, Andromeda and Ginny all glanced into the other room at the hunched form of Harry who appeared to be talking to Teddy.

"To be honest, I needed the break," Andromeda said with a tired smile.

"Well, now that Harry's getting better, maybe we can watch him for you sometimes," Ginny offered. "I know Harry will want to spend a lot of time with Teddy. He takes the godfather idea very seriously and wants to be everything to Teddy Sirius never could be for him."

"That's a lovely idea, Ginny, and I may just take you up on that. As long as it wouldn't be a bother."

"If it would be a bother, I wouldn't have offered."

"Well, in that case, maybe in a few days then."

"Just let us know."

Teddy's fussing drew the women's attention back into the sitting room, Andromeda rising to go to Harry's aid. Molly's hand on the woman's arm stopped her.

"Let's see what Harry does, first."

The three watched Harry's actions, chuckling when Harry allowed Teddy to play with the glasses. Sighing, Andromeda sat again and just watched the scene. A moment or two later she shook her head.

"He's going to spoil that child if he's not careful," she said with much affection.

"Oh, let him have his fun for awhile," Molly replied, a hand waving away the other woman's concerns.

"Mum and I will keep him in check," Ginny joined in, mischief shining brightly in her eyes.

Ginny went back to Harry-watching and she couldn't help pretending, if just for a moment, that Harry was holding their own child. He seemed so comfortable with Teddy in his lap. There was just something about seeing Harry with a baby that made her fall even more in love with him. Without any conscious thought, she sighed dreamily and left the two women to join Harry. He looked up at her approach and smiled, an expression full of joy, pride and love that nearly stole her breath. Silently, for the hundredth time, she thanked Merlin for sending Harry back to her.

Perching on his chair arm, she kissed the top of Harry's head and rested her arm on his shoulder before playing with Teddy.

Ooooo

"You do realize, Molly, that that scene, but with a different child, won't be far off."

Molly watched her daughter and almost-son, studied their faces as they looked at each other, and sighed.

"I'm afraid you're probably right. I just hope they wait awhile. They're so young still. They have their whole lives ahead of them. There's plenty of time, somewhere down the road, for children."

"War ages a person, Molly. Especially when that person is in the thick of it. I'm sure neither of them feel their ages."

"I know but they still need time to themselves. I also know, though, that one of the things Harry's always wanted was a family of his own." Molly chuckled half-heartedly. "I'm half-expecting to get the news sometime in the next year."

"How _is_ Harry doing, really? I've read so much in the Prophet and coupled with what you've said in the past..."

"He's doing so much better. It's amazing how quickly he's recovering. He still has his moments but that's to be expected."

"That's good to know. Remus and Dora made Harry Teddy's godfather for a reason. I would have been more bothered if Harry had come out of that fight untouched. I don't know how he did it but I'll be forever grateful for what that boy has done for us. Losing so many people he's felt close to, especially Remus, must have been just unbearable. With all the pain and suffering that boy's been through, it's a miracle he could do what he did."

Andromeda shook her head in sadness. Then she observed the little tableau in the sitting room and smiled.

"He's got so much to give. I'm glad he's found the true meaning of life."

"They're getting married the day after Ginny's birthday, remember?" Molly said. "At first, I wasn't thrilled with the idea but as I've watched them together these past few weeks, I don't think I've seen a couple more in love. They really do complement each other."

After a few more minutes of small talk, Teddy's restless cries reached the kitchen.

"Well, I should be going. I'll come around again soon. I'll definitely be here for the wedding."

Andromeda rescued a somewhat panicked Harry with a chuckle and a promise to come back by soon. A final good-bye was exchanged and then the two were gone. Harry stood, watching the last bit of green flames disappear, feeling the stab of loss once again. It may have been a short visit but, to Harry, it was like having Remus back. Melancholy began to creep in until he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his arm.

"Hey," Ginny said softly. "He's not gone forever. You'll see him again."

"I know," Harry said, his voice somewhat quavering. He cleared his throat and smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm just being stupid."

"No, you're not," Ginny answered firmly. "I saw a lot of Remus in Teddy, too. We're going to miss Remus but think of all the fun we get to have with his son. You get to give him his first broom ride and his first broom. You get to help him with his first prank. You get to tell him all about girls."

Ginny laughed at the expression that stole over Harry's face with that one.

"I told Andromeda that we'd watch Teddy for her whenever she needed a break."

Harry stared at his fiance, stunned. "Really? You'd want to?" he finally managed.

"Of course I would, Harry. Why wouldn't I?"

Harry looked away, his vision blurring, and shrugged. Two gentle hands brought his face back around.

"He's important to you, Harry, which means he's important to me. And even if he wasn't your godson, he'd still be important. Remus meant a lot to me. He didn't coddle me like some people did. He taught me a lot. He helped me through a lot of stuff my second year and I don't just mean Defense stuff. He helped me to be me again. Of course I'd want to be involved with his son. I can tell Teddy just how much his father meant to me."

Swallowing with great difficulty, Harry whispered, "Thanks, Ginny."

Her response was a tender, lingering kiss that nearly stole his breath. After a long moment, they parted and, acting on impulse, Harry pulled out of his pocket the thing he'd taken from his vault. A quick glance around told him they were still alone. Gathering all the nerve he had, he stepped back from Ginny and held out the little box to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

Throat closed up with nerves, he couldn't speak so he motioned for her to take it. Harry practically held his breath as she took the small box and opened it. He was so worried she wouldn't like it. It wasn't new by any stretch of the imagination. As she stood staring at the open box, he really began to worry. _Maybe I should have gotten something else. Maybe she'd have preferred something of her own. Maybe she..._ His wild thoughts ceased the instant she grabbed him and pulled him down for a searing kiss.

"You like it, then?" he asked once he could speak again.

"It's beautiful, Harry!"

"I'm glad you like it. It belonged to my Mum. My Dad gave it to her on their anniversary. After they heard the prophecy, she put it back in the vault for safekeeping. They had to try to blend in when they went into hiding and anyone seeing that ring would have remembered it."

"Oh, Harry. Are you sure? I'd be honored to wear something of hers but you don't have to-"

Harry's finger over her mouth put an end to her argument. "I'm positive, Ginny. She would have wanted me to give it to you. She'd left a letter stating as much."

With tears glistening in her eyes, Ginny softly said, "Then I'll wear it with pride."

Harry's trembling fingers removed the ring from its cushioned box and slipped it onto Ginny's finger. A sizing spell had been placed upon the ring so it quickly adjusted for the perfect fit. He studied the ring as it rested on Ginny's finger. Light made the rose gold metal appear to almost glow, setting off the richness of the colors in the stones. Its round ruby solitaire rose only a little above the band in a basket style setting with delicate scroll work on the sides. The stone was a deep red and more clear than any ruby had a right to be. Where the ruby's setting met the band on each side, a tiny rope twisted over the top of the band. Channel set into the band, to each side of the ruby, were two round emeralds, a clear, brilliant green normally only seen in pictures.

Smiling, Harry fingered the ring before giving Ginny a kiss. "I knew it would look spectacular on you."

"It's gorgeous," Ginny breathed, staring at the stunning ring.

"It has to be to live up to the person wearing it."

A huge grin spread across Ginny's face and she hauled Harry's lips to hers, snogging him until he could no longer think. Several long blissful moments passed before either needed to come up for air.

"Is there a matching ring, for you, I mean?" Ginny asked, her labored breathing making her voice husky.

"Er," was all Harry could think to say. Slowly the fog cleared and he was able to formulate an answer. "Yeah, my Dad had one made to match it. It's a rose gold band with three round rubies flanked by a round emerald on each side, all channel set just like the emeralds on your ring. Not only that but the colors, between rings, match, as well."

"That's good."

"Why?"

"It'll be a way of telling people you belong to me when I can't be there myself to say it."

Amused, Harry couldn't help but remark. "I don't think that's going to be a problem what with the Prophet hounding my every move."

"That's not who I'm most concerned about. I'm more concerned about all the witches who will be throwing themselves at you."

"I don't know why they would."

"You're a hero, Harry. The sooner you accept it, the better off you'll be. Everyone loves a hero."

At that moment, the Floo flared and Arthur's face appeared in the green flames. Harry could tell something was terribly wrong.

"Harry!" Arthur cried, relief evident in his voice. "Get Molly! There's been an attack at Diagon Alley. You-Know-Who supporters and dementors are everywhere. Tell Molly to gather as many people as she can. The Ministry is doing what it can but the Auror department has been severely depleted. Hurry!"

With that, Arthur disappeared. Harry and Ginny exchanged brief, worried glances before Harry rushed off to find Molly and anyone else he could gather. The Weasley matriarch was in such a panic she didn't bother warning away Ron, Harry or Ginny before Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron. The three watched as first Molly then Charlie and George disappeared in a _whoosh_ of green flames. Each of them exchanged glances and could tell they were all thinking the same thing. Harry grabbed some Floo powder and followed George. Ginny and Ron followed closely behind.

The others had already headed for the entrance into the wizarding alley and were unaware they'd been followed. The three teens quickly caught up and by the look on Molly's face, they expected a serious tongue lashing when things were settled. Harry decided he was okay with that. He knew he could help and felt he had to lend a hand. He also knew Ron and Ginny felt the same though he kind of wished Ginny had stayed behind. He was afraid she'd be injured, not because she couldn't defend herself; she'd proven time again that she could. He was just afraid she'd be a target since it was common knowledge how he felt about her. All thoughts went out the window the instant the entrance to the Alley was opened.

Chaos reigned. Witches and wizards ran here and there, some running around panicking, others heading for cover, casting spells in the direction of the assailants. Flashes of silver stood out in the dim light as ghostly animals charged the grotesque robed forms. Breaths puffed in the cold air brought by the hideous soul-sucking creatures. Bodies of men, women and children were strewn across the alley like rag dolls.

The small group of reinforcements joined the fray without any comment, splitting up to help where needed. Molly, Charlie and George headed for the pseudo Death Eaters while Harry and Ron took up the fight with the dementors. Ginny, not having mastered the Patronus charm, helped get innocent families out of the line of fire. Others trickled into the Alley and joined the fray.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled as he ran.

His stag and Ron's dog joined the other silvery images in ramming the foul cloaked beings all the while Harry could hear the faint screaming of his mother, could see the faces of those he'd loved and lost to the war. The sounds of the battle were becoming muted as the cold emptiness of the dementors began taking effect. He shook his head to try to clear it.

"Harry?" Ron queried, in turns directing his patronus and watching his friend.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled and, noticing his stag had disappeared, attempted to re-cast it, getting it to work on the second try.

"There's too many of them!" someone cried.

"There's more over there!" yelled another, pointing to the opposite end near The Leaky Cauldron.

Both Ron and Harry glanced over their shoulders. More dementors had gathered and were attacking families. A familiar scream rang in Harry's ears. Wildly scanning the Alley for the source and not finding it, he sprinted in that direction. Feeling weak and frozen to the bone, he called his stag forth again. The instant it appeared, the ragtag group of Death Eater wannabes turned their attention to him.

"It's Potter!"

"Get him! He's the one responsible for the loss of our Lord!"

Several spells were cast in his direction. Harry didn't know what to do. If he protected himself, he lost his patronus. Although, the way he was beginning to feel, he'd be losing it soon anyway. Suddenly he was knocked off his feet. The distraction caused his stag to fade into nothingness.

"Protego!" cried a voice Harry thought he knew.

Screams reverberated in Harry's head as faces of the dead paraded across his mind's eye. Shivering, his teeth chattering, he curled in upon himself, hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut in a pointless effort to block it all out, unaware he'd begun mumbling. Tears leaked from his eyes unchecked. Caught in the maelstrom of guilt and despair, Harry didn't react to any outside stimulus, not to his savior's hand upon his shoulder nor her kiss at his temple. Not even to the arrival of another, patronus pushing back the approaching dementors. Then, finally, blessed silence as he passed out.

Ooooo

Ginny had kept an eye on Harry. She knew exactly how badly dementors affected him. It was bound to be worse now after everything that had happened with the War. Seeing the shaky way he ran in her direction, she knew he wouldn't last much longer. Hearing the cry to get Harry, Ginny ran full-out, knocked Harry off his feet and cast the shield charm just in time.

Bill quickly dispatched the few who'd attacked Harry then ran to his sister, casting his patronus for protection. Glancing down, he could see that Harry was out cold. While he hadn't known of Harry's bad reaction to dementors, it didn't surprise Bill to see the young man unconscious. If ever there was anyone who had bad experiences, it was Harry. One could argue that Harry's entire life was one horrific experience, save for his time spent at the Burrow. He'd recognized the relief and joy in Harry's eyes at being with the Weasleys again that summer Bill had first met the teen.

As the attackers began disapparating, the dementors also decided to retreat. The air warmed gradually and those in hiding began to reappear. Bill immediately checked on Harry.

"He's still out," Ginny said, her hand gently running through his hair. "He probably will be for awhile but he's freezing. We need to get him home and warmed up."

"Let me tell someone where we're going then I'll take us there."

Not waiting for a response, Bill hurried off to find someone. He came across George first, told him his plan then returned to Ginny and Harry. Removing a scrap of parchment from his pocket, he created a portkey.

"Here, this will take us directly into his bedroom. Ready?"

When she'd taken hold of Harry with one hand and the parchment with the other, Bill counted down and, with that familiar portkey tug, they were gone.

Materializing into the comfortable room, Bill immediately gathered Harry into his arms and placed him on the bed. Ginny grabbed all the blankets she could find then tucked them around Harry. Sitting next to him, she began gently running her hand through his hair, ignoring her brother completely. After a few moments of silence, Bill cleared his throat.

"I'll, uh, go and make some tea, bring up some chocolate, too, for when he wakes."

"Thanks, Bill."

Suddenly feeling exhausted herself, she slipped under the the bedcovers and cuddled up next to her love. Warm and comfortable, Ginny quickly fell asleep.

Ooooo

As Bill prepared tea, the Floo activated, spitting out first Molly, who appeared to be in a near panic, then Ron, George, Fleur and Charlie. Percy and Arthur stayed behind as Ministry officials to help with the aftermath.

"Ginny! Harry! Bill!"

"In here, Mum!"

Molly rushed into the kitchen but stopped short when she was met by the practically empty kitchen. She turned to Bill in confusion.

"I thought you said you were all in here. Where are they? Where's Harry and Ginny? Are they alright? I don't know what they were thinking, joining in like that." She turned to Ron. "Ronald Bilius Weasley! What were you three thinking? You could have been killed!"

Bill picked up one of the cups of tea and closed his mum's hands around it before preparing more cups and answering.

"Mum," he said calmly, "Harry and Ginny are fine. Well, they will be, anyway."

"Will be?" Molly turned away from her youngest son to her oldest and missed the grateful look Ron gave Bill. "What's that mean? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, really," Bill reassured her. "Ginny just needs some tea and some chocolate. Just your typical dementor effects. She had been near someone who could cast a patronus so she wasn't too badly affected. I guess I should have made hot chocolate instead. Oh well."

"What are you not tellling me about Harry?"

Bill sighed. "Harry needs..." his voice trailed off.

Ron, knowing exactly what Bill wasn't saying, joined in the conversation. "Mum, dementors have always affected Harry badly. Third year, when the train to Hogwarts had been boarded by the dementors, Harry ended up passing out. Said he could hear his mum's screams as she was being killed."

Molly had huffed at the idea of the dementors on the train but by the time Ron had finished speaking, her anger melted away and was replaced by the maternal instincts she was reknowned for.

"Oh, the poor dear. And with the war still fresh on his mind, I imagine this time was much worse."

Bill nodded, his voice quiet as he spoke. "I guess Harry had run back down to our side of the Alley. The instant his patronus appeared, those You-Know-Who supporters attacked him. Ginny shoved him off his feet and covered him with the shield spell but his patronus faded. I took care of those who'd attacked him and cast my own patronus. By the time I got there, Harry was huddled up, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut. He was rocking and mumbling and shaking all at once. I think he was crying too."

Bill could hardly speak now and he had to swallow hard in order to continue. "I've always thought Harry was so strong, that he could do anything. To see him like that, it was horrible."

"He's going to be really embarrassed when he wakes up," Ron said, remembering his friend's reaction to having fainted in third year.

"Whatever for?" Molly asked, slightly exasperated at the thought.

"His reaction to them. It's always bothered him. You know how he hates to show any kind of weakness. That's how he'll see it. Again. Not to mention that we all know about it now instead of just myself, Hermione, Ginny and Neville." At his mum's confused look, he explained. "We were all in the same compartment when the dementors showed up. It was us and Remus."

Somber silence fell upon the family, each lost in memories of the dearly departed werewolf. Of course, thoughts of Remus automatically turned to Tonks, her exuberance for life and her odd choice of occupation considering her clumsiness. Thinking of Tonks made them all remember her mentor, Moody and his yells of 'Constant Vigilance'. As a natural progression, Dumbledore came to mind, as Moody and the former Headmaster were known to be old friends. Thoughts of Hogwarts brought back memories of Fred and George and their many pranks. Remembering the twins' pranks made them remember who they loved pranking the most—Severus Snape. Even though they all now knew the truth about the man, each of them had a hard time believing it. Snape hated everyone and no one more than Sirius Black. Those who'd known Sirius were glad they'd been proven wrong about him. Harry had needed someone and Sirius had filled the role. It had been a devastating blow to Harry to lose him. This brought them back around to the young man upstairs.

Bill cleared his throat. "I told Ginny I'd bring up this tea so I should do that."

"I'll do it, Bill," Molly volunteered. "I want to see them anyway. Just for my own peace of mind. It's late. Why don't we all get some sleep?"

Both Charlie and George mumbled about not being able to sleep. Bill and Fleur nodded in agreement. Ron was feeling tired but he needed to be around his family more and agreed with the others.

Quietly accepting this, Molly smiled sadly. "Alright, then. I'll be back down and make some tea and hot chocolate, maybe some soup, too. Your father and Percy may be hungry by the time they get back."

Molly left them all behind and headed up the stairs with the tray to the room Harry was using. Opening the door, she stopped short in surprise. She'd known Ginny was here, that wasn't what surprised her. No, what surprised her was finding Ginny in bed with Harry, sound asleep. Quietly, Molly walked into the room and set the tray on the nightstand beside Harry's glasses. An irrational part of herself begged her to peek under the covers, just to be sure. She quickly squashed that urge. They were going to be married in just a few more days. Besides, the way Harry was wrapped around Ginny bespoke of a man who, after a long cold existence, finally had found a source of warmth.

Bending down, she lightly brushed their brows with a kiss. Tapping the tea with her wand, she cast a heating charm on it to keep it fresh and hot. With a final glance at the couple, Molly closed the door as she walked out of the room.

Ooooo

"_Nooo! Don't go! Don't leave me! Sirius, please don't go! Remus, not you, too! Ginny! No, not Ginny! Please, not Ginny! Ginny!"_

The anguished screams cut through the early morning peace sending everyone rushing up the stairs to Harry's room, Ginny leading the way. She'd been out of her seat at the first word. She'd gone down for some breakfast and found both her parents, George, Percy and even Ron already up. Bill and Fleur had left for home after Arthur and Percy had returned from Diagon Alley.

Ginny threw open the door and rushed to a thrashing and sobbing Harry, followed closely by Molly. Ignoring everyone, Ginny crawled onto the bed and straddled Harry's waist. Cupping his face, she leaned over and rested her forehead against his sweat-soaked brow and spoke soothingly.

"It's okay, Harry. I'm okay. I'm fine. It's just a dream. Wake up, Harry. Open your eyes and look at me. See for yourself that I'm okay."

As she was telling him it was only a dream, Harry woke. Disoriented at first as to how he'd gotten into his bed, he didn't react to much. Then he remembered the attack, the dementors and his dreams. That's when he realized Ginny was straddling him, speaking to him.

"Ginny?" he asked quietly in a voice laced with fearful disbelief. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry."

Harry's arms caught her around her waist and pulled her close as he began to cry again. "Oh, Merlin, Ginny. I was so scared. I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were gone, like Sirius and Remus."

Ginny rolled to her side, taking Harry with her, making sure his back was to everyone. One hand rubbed his back as she sent a look to her mum, who interpreted it immediately and quietly sent everyone out, including herself.

Ginny continued to hold Harry and he let go of all the emotions and guilt the dementors had brought back. She didn't know how much time passed but slowly Harry began to settle. Sniffling, his hand left her waist to caress her cheek, to push her hair behind her ear.

"I love you so much, Ginny."

"I love you, too, Harry."

"Thanks for letting me cry all over you."

"Harry, you don't need to thank me for that. It's what I'm here for, to help when I can. You'd be there for me if I needed you and, who knows, I probably will some time. Little reminders that Fred's gone sometimes sneak up on me. Anyway, I'm glad you didn't try to bottle it all up."

Harry gave a teary chuckle. "It seems I'm incapable of doing that now."

"Good," Ginny said with a cheeky grin.

"Witch," he responded with a grin then sniffed.

"Mum's got breakfast ready if you're hungry."

A loud growl from the vicinity of Harry's stomach made them both laugh.

"I'll take that as a yes. Why don't you get up, get a shower and I'll let Mum you'll be down looking for something eat?"

"Sounds good." Ginny started to move but Harry stopped her. "Ginny, you know that if you need to talk to me about...Fred...you can, right? I mean, I know what you just said but I really do want you to talk to me if you need to."

"I will, Harry. I promise."

"Good."

Harry gave her a quick kiss then let her go. Once she was out the door, he sat up and sighed, running a hand down his face then through his hair. Would the nightmares ever stop? If he didn't get a better handle on himself, he might have to rethink his idea of becoming an Auror. He had to admit, though, as he gathered what he needed for his shower, he was a whole lot better off than he used to be. He could understand things better since he'd started seeing Healer Emenda. For that, he knew, he'd always be grateful.


	16. Let Your Troubles Fall Behind You

_**Let your troubles fall behind you, Let it shine**_

_**Until you feel it all around you**_

"Have you given any thought, Mr. Potter, about returning to school for your final year?"

McGonagall, now Hogwarts' Headmistress, asked upon visiting the Weasleys a couple days after the Diagon Alley incident. As Ron had predicted, Harry had been very ashamed and embarrassed at his collapse but when everyone accepted it without a word, Harry quickly got over it. Attention quickly shifted to the ring on Ginny's finger and Harry was relieved to be the center of attention for a totally different reason.

"Er, I hadn't, really," Harry replied. "I wasn't sure I'd be allowed to."

McGonagall nodded in understanding a sad smile on her face. "I understand. However, the school's governors and I have decided to allow a retake of the previous year to those who couldn't attend."

"How would that work?" Ginny asked. "I mean, I'm supposed to be finishing school this year. I don't want to have to go an extra year."

Minerva smiled at the younger girl, remembering a time when she, too, had been anxious to leave school behind, at least for awhile.

"No, I don't suppose you would. We're planning on having a longer year this year so students can get caught up to where they should be." She turned to Harry. "Have you given any more thought to your career?"

"Well," Harry hesitated. McGonagall had fought so hard for him against Umbridge when he'd mentioned wanting to become an Auror. He felt as if he would be letting her down, like it had been a waste, if he admitted to not being so sure about his plans now.

Seeing his struggle, Minerva took a shot in the dark and said kindly, "It's okay if you've changed your mind, Mr. Potter."

"I just hate feeling that it was all for nothing. I mean, you fought so hard for me back in fifth year. I feel like I'm betraying that by having second thoughts."

"Harry, I would have fought for you, regardless. Nothing you can say or do now could ever tarnish that. I want you to be happy in your chosen field no matter what it may be."

"Thanks for that," Harry said, voice a little husky with emotion. He cleared his throat. "I just don't know anymore. I feel like I should help fight against the evil that will always be out there but this last encounter, with the dementors, it's left me wondering, you know?"

Remembering Harry's third year, McGonagall nodded in understanding. "I can see why that would give you pause. Might I suggest you return to school while you decide?"

"Professor," Ginny interjected, "is there going to be a problem for us, this year? I mean, Harry and I will be married by the time term starts. We won't be forced apart."

"That's another thing I was hoping to discuss. I, well, Gryffindor needs a Head Boy and a Quidditch captain." The stately witch held out two badges. "I was hoping I could convince you, Harry, to take the Head Boy's badge. I can't think of anyone more deserving." Harry opened his mouth to protest but she talked over him. "It would also solve where you two could stay."

Harry wasn't thrilled with the prospects of being Head Boy. All the meetings, responsibilities, attention. He was sick of it all, to be honest. If he did go back to school, he'd prefer to be as normal as he could get. His eyes sought out Ginny.

"What do you think, Gin?"

"Harry, don't put that decision on me. You're the one who has to make it. What is it that you want?"

"What I want and what we need aren't exactly meeting right now. I mean, we need some place to stay and the Head Boy's room would be perfect."

"But...?"

"But," Harry turned to his former Head of House. "I'd really prefer to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible. I've never had just a normal year at Hogwarts and if I went back, that's what I'd want. I do realize I'll never have a totally average year but something more normal would be great."

Nodding again, Minerva responded. "I can certainly understand that. I'd even go so far as to say you've earned it. Do you have any replacements in mind?"

Harry took some time to think over her question. "Well, I think Neville would be a good choice. When he started school, he had no self-confidence whatsoever. Over the years, he's broken out of that shell and has become a stronger person."

Ginny nodded. "He helped keep the DA in operation last year against the Death Eaters," she said, quietly.

McGonagall nodded again. "I had thought so. Mr. Longbottom would certainly make a fine Head Boy. Okay, so that's taken care of. What about Quidditch captain?"

"Ginny, you take it." Harry said before anything more could be said.

Ginny stared at Harry, surprise written all over her face. "What? Me? Harry-"

"No, listen. I had a hard time with it. More than once you had to yell at everyone in order for them to listen to me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's because you were too timid to speak up, Harry. You're a natural leader, Harry. Sometimes you just have to be forceful."

"You're a leader, too, you know." At her disbelieving look, he countered with, "Who did you tell me helped Neville last year?"

Ginny blushed and glanced away.

"Exactly," Harry said. "Take it, Gin. You'll be magnificent. I really don't want it this time. As normal as I can get, remember?"

Ginny turned back to her soon-to-be husband, saw the genuine desire for her to have it in his eyes. She couldn't deny it was something she'd thought about on more than one occasion. Now here it was. She'd just never thought she'd be taking it from Harry. Sighing and with a smile, she nodded.

"Okay, I will."

The smile that graced Harry's features was definitely reward enough for Ginny.

"Good," McGonagall said, handing over the appropriate badge. "Congratulations, Miss Weasley. I believe you'll do well." She appeared to think a moment before continuing. "I'm assuming I'm going to have to get used to calling you Mrs. Potter at school. Forgive me for the occasional slip."

Talk then turned to the couple's upcoming wedding, ironing out any last minute details.

Oooo

The day before Ginny's birthday, Hermione returned to the Burrow. They had received a letter from her stating she'd be back in time for Ginny's birthday and the wedding. Harry was glad everything had worked out with Hermione's parents and that she'd had a chance to spend some time with them. He couldn't deny, though, that he was glad she was back. He knew Ginny wanted Hermione to stand with her during the ceremony.

"Harry!"

Hermione flew into Harry's arms and was nearly suffocated by the girl's hug.

"How are you, Harry?" she asked, stepping back a couple steps to look him over.

"I'm fine, Hermione." Harry chuckled at her quirked eyebrow. "This time I truly mean it."

Hermione studied her best friend a moment more before nodding her agreement. "Yes, I think you do. You seem more relaxed than I've ever seen you. Not nervous at all about the wedding in two days?"

"Nope," Harry replied cheekily. "Not a bit."

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" she said with a laugh before turning to Ginny.

The two girls exchanged hugs, whispered conversations and some laughs. Hermione gasped when she caught a glimpse of Ginny's ring. The two giggled in delight over its beauty before the older girl turned back to Harry.

"Good choice, Harry," she said, teasingly and laughed at Harry's blush but noted the look of pride on his face.

Hermione noticed Ron hanging back from the others and she immediately walked away from her two friends to her boyfriend. She'd missed Ron something fierce and was glad to be back. Harry and Ginny left the two alone.

Oooo

The next morning, Harry was up with the sun. One more day and he was going to be married to the love of his life. He'd never really dared hope he'd have a future but here it was. In his opinion, his future would begin tomorrow at sunset the instant he said those two special words, 'I do.' Gathering his clothes, he headed for the shower.

Not surprisingly, when Harry peeked into Ginny's room, Hermione was already up. That girl was always an early riser, a total opposite of the other girl still asleep. Gently closing the door, Harry tiptoed to Ginny's bed, knelt down and placed his arms on the bed, hand over hand. His chin rested on his hands as he watched her sleep, a loving smile on his face. He stayed that way a few minutes before reaching out with his left hand and gently slipped her hair from her face, smiling more when she leaned into his hand. Leaning over, Harry lightly grazed her lips with his.

Harry knew the instant she woke. The kiss had been light, lazy but then became more. He felt her pull him onto her bed, her hands in his hair as she kissed him in earnest. Eventually, they parted and Harry found himself lying next to her, on top of the bed covers.

"Hmm, what a way to wake up," Ginny murmured.

"I aim to please," Harry replied. "You gave me a memorable kiss on my seventeenth birthday. I wanted to do the same for you."

Harry's free hand rose to slide through Ginny's hair. He'd always loved her hair, how it looked in different lights. It fascinated him. Then there was the slight flowery scent that always accompanied it, a scent he'd recognize and cherish for the rest of his life.

"Happy birthday, Gin."

"Thanks, Harry. It's already the best ever."

Ginny yawned and Harry chuckled. He made to get up but Ginny's arms tightened around him.

"Stay."

"I shouldn't. What if your mum or your brothers came in?"

"So? We'll be married tomorrow. Besides, I'm of age now and there isn't anything anyone can say. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

"No, we're not doing anything wrong. Not yet, anyway. I'm afraid though, if I stay, the temptation may be too much."

"Please?" she begged, staring into his eyes with her huge golden-brown ones.

Not able to resist her, he smiled. He hadn't really wanted to leave anyway.

"Okay, I'll stay. Get some sleep."

Harry rolled to his back allowing Ginny to cuddle up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder, hand over his heart. Holding her close, he absently played with her hair as he felt her relax back into sleep. Deeply contented, he placed a kiss on her head before drifting off himself.

Oooo

"Harry!" a voice whispered, practically in his ear while a hand shook him.

Harry jolted awake, his hand automatically reaching for his wand. After a second, he realized who had been shaking him and he relaxed.

"Hermione?"

"Harry, you should go. I heard Mrs. Weasley saying something about coming up to talk to Ginny."

"Oh." Harry glanced around and noticed the sun was now well up. "Right."

Easing himself away from Ginny, Harry gave her another light kiss before sitting up and looking to his best friend.

"Thanks, Hermione. I owe you one."

"No worries, Harry. Now go before you get caught. You may be getting married tomorrow but I don't think Mrs. Weasley would be thrilled to find you here."

Harry had to agree. The Weasley matriarch had been very lenient with him and Ginny and he really didn't want to press his luck. Hermione walked back to the bedroom door, peeked out and, finding the coast clear, opened the door so Harry could slip out and head down for breakfast.

Oooo

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny sighed, startling the other girl. "He's too sweet to be believed sometimes. I love him so much."

"Ginny! I didn't realize you were awake."

Hermione had jumped but recovered quickly and said with a wistful smile. "I know you do. I also know he loves you. I can see it in his eyes, his smile, the way he carries himself. It's all because of you. I have to say I'm a tad bit jealous."

Ginny looked to her long-time friend. "Why? Aren't things okay between you and my brother?"

"Oh, yes, I didn't mean to imply differently. It's just...I don't know. You two seem so close, as if you'd dated for years instead of a few weeks and then were apart for nearly a year."

"You and Ron just got together, Hermione. Give it time."

"I know." Hermione fell onto her bed with a sigh. "I'm being silly."

"No, you're not." Ginny then smirked. "You just might have to be more patient than I ever was. This is my brother we're talking about."

In response, Hermione tossed her pillow at Ginny, who caught it deftly and threw it back with a giggle. Before Hermione could toss it back at Ginny, a soft knock at the door came and Mrs. Weasley peeked in.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I wanted to talk about some things to you."

Taking that as her cue to leave, Hermione bid Ginny good-bye and left the room.

"What's up, Mum?"

"Well, I just wanted to talk to you about..well...your wedding night, what to expect. Things like that."

Mother and daughter both blushed. Ginny already had "The Talk" a long time ago but she did have questions and was grateful her mother initiated this conversation as Ginny had no clue if she would have been able to.

"Do you have any questions, first of all?" Molly asked.

Unable to look her mum in the eye, Ginny gazed over the woman's shoulder and asked, "What's it like? You know, being with someone in that way?"

Molly smiled a bit. "Well, the first time may not be as pleasant but it gets better. Much better. And you'll feel closer, emotionally, to each other afterward. You're not only sharing your body but your heart and soul as well. You're expressing your love to and for each other."

"I'm so nervous. What if I don't, you know, like it?"

"The first time, there's some pain and discomfort so you may not think it's all that great but, trust me, once you concentrate more on the love you have for Harry and let yourself get caught up in it, it'll be better."

Again, Ginny blushed and stared over her mum's shoulder as she asked her next question.

"What can I do to make it better, for him, I mean?"

Molly continued to smile as she explained about different touches or caresses and what little signs to watch for.

"The best thing to do is let it happen on its own. Don't try to force it."

"Thanks, Mum."

Oooo

Harry had just finished breakfast and was lingering over his pumpkin juice when Arthur came in from the backyard. Seeing Harry there, his face brightened.

"Harry, I wonder if I might borrow you for a bit. I have something from Muggles that I'd like to know more about."

As this was a common occurrence, Harry shrugged and said, "Sure, Mr. Weasley."

Harry followed Arthur out into the man's shed that housed all Mr. Weasley's Muggle artifacts. Once inside, the man pulled out a tall machine that was hugely round at the top and had a cylindrical base. At the bottom of the bubble-like top was a large metal gear with holes all around the edge. The gear looked like it could turn. On the front of the base was a thin slot, a handle that twisted and a flap that opened outward. Inside the base was a spiral chute that led from the metal gear to the flap. The entire thing reached Harry's chin.

Huffing a little with exertion, Arthur asked, "What can you tell me about this, Harry?"

"Oh, it's a gumball machine, Mr. Weasley." Seeing the man's confusion, Harry elaborated. "See, Muggles have gum that can be made into brightly colored balls. They fill the top, then put money in here," Harry pointed out the slot and took the knob in hand, "twist the handle and a gum ball falls through one of those holes at the bottom, comes down the chute to this flap here. Open the flap and get your gum."

Arthur grinned, delighted. "Ingenious, these Muggles."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. That was the Weasley patriarch's favorite phrase when referring to something Muggle-made.

"Thanks, Harry, for explaining all that. This had been confiscated a few years ago while we were all at the World Cup. I brought it home but, with all that has been happening, I haven't had a chance to tinker with it."

"No problem, Mr. Weasley. Glad I could help."

Arthur grew serious and chose his next words carefully, his gaze bouncing between Harry and the door.

"Harry, do you have any, er, questions about what happens, you know, on one's wedding night?"

Heat suffused Harry's entire face and his gaze dropped from the man he'd considered an almost-father. He couldn't believe the man had just asked him that. He was marrying the man's daughter, for Merlin's sake. So, in his embarrassment, Harry just stood there, not making eye contact.

"I know this is embarrassing coming from the father of the girl you're going to be marrying," continued Arthur, as if he'd read Harry's mind. "This is something a father discusses with his son but since your father cannot, I thought I'd try to do so for him. So, do you have any questions? Anything you're not sure about or just want to know more about?"

Face still flaming, Harry tried to answer. He did a fair imitation of a fish before any sound was forced out.

"Er, well," he said, staring now at the gumball machine as if it were his lifeline, "I know the basics but that's about all. Maybe some tips or advice would be good."

"Right."

Arthur nodded in agreement and proceeded to give the same tips and advice he, himself, had gotten before he'd married Molly and added his own that he'd discovered along the way. Even though the pair was highly embarrassed, Harry for asking and Arthur for answering, they managed to have a good enough discussion to put most of Harry's fears to rest.

"The worst you could do is try to force it to happen," Arthur finished with this. "Anything else?"

"No, I think that's it."

Neither man could look at the other, still. Arthur nodded. "Okay, well, then, shall we go?"

"Absolutely."

Harry hurried to the shed's door, Arthur right behind him, both eager to end the conversation and to be elsewhere. The older wizard placed a staying hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry turned back.

"If you ever have any questions, about anything whatsoever, ask me, okay?"

Harry nodded his agreement and rushed off into the Burrow. He could still feel his face burning. That had been one of the hardest things he'd ever endured. At the kitchen sink, he collected water in his hands and rubbed his face, hoping he could play off the redness as a result from being outside. As he did so, he realized he never thanked the man. The door creaked open behind him and Harry turned to the sound. Seeing Arthur, Harry's face reddened again but this time Harry held the man's gaze.

"Thanks," was all Harry could muster.

"You're welcome, Harry," Arthur replied and proceeded to decorate the kitchen for Ginny's party.

Oooo

After Ginny's party, Harry took her aside.

"I know you noticed I didn't get you anything, not anything wrapped, anyway. I thought maybe you'd like to see the house. I went over earlier to see it and I really think you'll like it."

Harry and Ginny had helped remove all the old Black belongings but the house-elves wouldn't let them stay for the decorating part. It was to be a surprise the couple had been told.

"Alright. I can't wait to see it."

After letting Molly know where they were disappearing to, Harry and Ginny walked out to the edge of the wards. The Floo hadn't been hooked up to the Network as of yet so they had to Disapparate. The first thing Ginny noticed was the new paint. Instead of the dark, peeling paint from before, the house glistened with a warm, cream color. The old, broken steps of the front porch were repaired. The front door, made of a light honey-toned color guarded the entrance. At eye level, a tiny peep hole had been added. Gone was the old silver serpent doorknob. A gold lever-style handle took its place.

Ginny gasped at her first glance at the hallway. Where it was once dark and gloomy, now it was brightly lit with several golden gas lamps. The floor was now wooden, the same wood used with the door. A venetian red cloth runner covered the length of the hallway. The walls were covered in ivory wallpaper. Mrs. Black's portrait had finally been removed. Portraits of Harry's parents, a Marauders photo and some of the Weasley family photos hung in its place. The troll leg umbrella stand was gone.

Harry hung back as Ginny entered the dining table. A long table and chairs of the same golden wood sat in the center of the room. This room also had wood floors with a rug the same warm red-brown found in the hallway. Here, the walls were also papered ivory with tiny calla lilies a light peach in color. To one side, a dresser stood containing the Potter china and silver.

"This is beautiful," Ginny breathed. "And so light. I love it."

"It's only the beginning," Harry said with a smile. "Come down and see the kitchen."

The dark stone steps leading to the kitchen had also been changed into rocks of various shades of red-brown and ivory. The kitchen floor consisted of the same rock scheme. Another large table and chairs sat in the middle of the huge room. Ginny noticed the same wood seemed to have been used throughout the house. The large fireplace was made of rusty red stone. Iron pots and pans still hung from the ceiling but they didn't detract from the overall warmth of the room. The walls here were papered a color a few shades darker than the ivory in the floor but not as dark as the rusty red.

Not bothering with the pantry, Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and raced back up the stairs and up to the first floor, eager to see the other changes. Naturally, the elf heads had disappeared. Ginny walked into the drawing room. The old Black family tapestry was replaced by a coat of paint a spicy red in color with cream accents. The other walls were the opposite, cream with spicy red accents. Opposite the red wall were large windows, overlooking the street, with draperies the same red shade as the wall. Currently they were pulled open wide to allow in the sunlight. Along a side wall, the large fireplace stood, now made of red rock and flanking it were two ornate glass-fronted cabinets made of the same light, reddish wood, ready for whatever she and Harry chose to put in them. Two phoenixes, facing each other, were etched along the tops of the glass panels, the tails swirled down the sides. The floor was covered with a rich cream carpet. Oil lamps stood ready along the walls to help light the room when the sun wasn't enough.

Settled around the fireplace was a couch and two chairs and a coffee table. The couch and chairs were upholstered in spicy red but the pattern also contained some cream and even a sky blue color. Throw pillows of sky blue rested against each arm of the couch. The chairs each had a pillow cream in color. Against another wall sat a writing desk, the wood, of course, matching the other pieces of furniture.

"I love this room. It's so warm and light."

Ginny walked along, touching things here and there.

"This wood is beautiful, just seems to glow. It's so much nicer than what used to be here." She walked to the red wall and gingerly touched it. "I'm certainly not going to miss that hideous tapestry."

"I know. I was thinking the same thing. It's so different, my jaw dropped the first time I walked in here."

Done with the room, Ginny peeked into the loo and saw a mostly cream colored room with red accents, just enough to keep it from being dull. Then she looked into the bedroom she'd once shared with Hermione. Here, the color scheme began to differ. The walls were painted sky blue and the floor had cream carpeting. The bedding reflected the same colors.

The second floor contained more bedrooms, each containing their own color scheme but with the cream color in common. The lofty ceilings appeared more open and airy with all the light wood and warm colors. All the old serpent doorknobs had been replaced with the brass lever-style handles. Ginny noticed the portrait of Phineas Nigellus missing and turned to Harry, brows raised in silent question, finger pointing to where it used to hang.

"Oh, the portrait? It's down at the Ministry now."

Once out on the second landing, Ginny leaned on the barrister and looked down at the entrance hall.

"I just can't believe how much it's changed. Sirius would love it."

"Yeah, I think he would, too."

For the first time, she noticed the warm-toned wood under her arms and the cream runner on the stairs.

"I'm detecting a theme here," she said with humor.

"You're just now detecting a theme?" Harry said with a laugh. Then he shrugged. "I just told them I wanted warm tones, that I wanted it to be light and airy. I guess the elves decided shades of red and gold would be appropriate. I don't mind. There's enough variance to keep it from being boring."

Then he started to worry that maybe she didn't like it. It must have showed on his face because Ginny reached up and gently rubbed away the crease that has appeared in his forehead.

"Don't worry, Harry. I think it's beautiful and you're right, the varying shades helps. Not to mention the blue they used in the drawing room. I never would have thought it would go together but it works. And with the bedrooms each having their own colors, that helps even more. We can always add other accent colors that we want to break up the reds and golds."

The third floor contained more bedrooms and a loo. The top floor held the Master bedroom and two other bedrooms that were once Sirius and Regulus' rooms. Ginny entered the Master bedroom and smiled at the color scheme. Crimson, cream and a dark but warm green color. Cream walls with crimson and green accents. The queen-sized bed sported a comforter an equal mix of crimson and green. The slightly reddish wood of the bed frame and wardrobe blended perfectly.

Attached to the master bedroom, the loo reflected the same color scheme. Ginny walked back to the bed and sat. Getting a mischievous look in her eye, she repositioned so she was lying on the bed then held her hand out to Harry. Her smile grew at his gulp.

Slowly, Harry joined her on the bed. He sighed when she snuggled into his side. Turning his head, he placed a kiss on her head. They lay together enjoying the feel for a long time. Eventually, lips met lips and things got heated.

Close to his breaking point, Harry pulled away and sat up.

"Too much temptation, love. We should probably go."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Harry stood and stuff his fists into his pockets, making sure to keep his back to her. He didn't think he could walk away if he turned around and saw her still on the bed. He sighed when he heard her footsteps cross the floor to him. Her arms encircled him and he felt her head against his back.

"Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to start something. I just couldn't resist lying on the bed and I wanted you near me."

"It's okay, Gin." Harry turned in her arms and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Tomorrow, we won't have to stop and, believe me, I'm looking forward to it."

Downstairs, they paused in the entrance hall.

"Kreacher! Winky!" Two house-elves appeared before the couple. "Kreacher, Winky, you've done a marvelous job."

"Yes, you really have," Ginny agreed. "It's so beautiful. Thank you. What a wonderful gift."

Winky burst into happy tears and hurled herself against Ginny's legs blubbering about how nice and kind Ginny was.

Peeling the elf away from Ginny, Harry said gently, "Winky, would you like to have a family to serve? I know of someone who could use your help and needs some looking after."

Winky's already enormous brown eyes grew rounder. She wiped her tomato nose on her shirt and nodded fervently.

"His name is George Weasley." Seeing the name recognition cross Winky's face, Harry nodded. "Yes, it's Ginny's brother. You see, he had a twin brother who died during the war and it's been really hard on him. He needs someone to take good care of him and help him with his joke shop. He's been really sad and angry at life. Would you be willing to be bound to him, to help him learn to live again, to help with his shop?

"Oh, yes, Harry Potter, sir," Winky gushed, "I's be willing to do anything as long as I's with a family, sir."

Harry smiled. "Good. Okay then."

He took out his wand, waved it in a slow counterclockwise horizontal circle over Winky's head and spoke the ritualistic words that would bind the excited elf to George.

"I, Harry James Potter, bind this house-elf, Winky, to George Weasley, to serve him to the best of her ability. By my magic, let it be so."

A bright white flash covered Winky a moment and then faded away. Once Harry's vision had cleared enough for him to see again, he saw Winky still standing before him but instead of the old shirt she had been wearing, she now wore the smock of an enslaved elf.

Winky looked down at her smock and bull-rushed Harry's legs. "It worked, Harry Potter, sir! It worked! I's thanking you so much, sir!"

"You're welcome, Winky," Harry answered, pulling Winky from him."Now I had promised you a Knut when the job was finished so..." He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the little bronze coin and handed it over. "...here it is. Now go take care of your new master."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Harry Potter, sir." And with that the elf disappeared.

"How did you know what to do, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I pulled a Hermione and looked it up in one of the Ministry's texts."

"That was a good thing you did, Master Harry," croaked Kreacher.

"Thanks, Kreacher. She deserved it. Now, before Ginny and I go, I wanted to discuss something with you. As you know, Ginny will be returning to school this year and I'm thinking I will, too. So, while we're not here, I want you to help Andromeda with Teddy. Will you do that?"

"Of course, Master Harry. It's been a long time since Kreacher has been around young ones."

"You'll do fine. I want you to do whatever she may need you to do, whether it's housework or looking after Teddy, okay?"

"Naturally, Master Harry."

"Okay, then, well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow then and thanks, again for the remarkable job."

"Yes, thank you so much, Kreacher."

Kreacher bowed to the pair before disappearing.

"Harry," Ginny asked, turning to him, "did you talk to George about Winky?"

Harry grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Nope."

Ginny's grin matched Harry's. "Good. Have any Extendable Ears? I want to hear that conversation. C'mon, let's go!"

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and in an instant, the two were back at the Burrow, schooling their features into looks of innocence, each biting a lip in order to keep from laughing. Entering the Burrow, they found they weren't going to need those Extendable Ears, after all. Winky was in the kitchen, hands on her tiny hips, scolding George for his lack of hygiene.


	17. 18 And Life

_**18 and Life To Go**_

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" yelled George. He stood in the kitchen, towering over a diminutive figure who didn't appear the least bit fearful. "I don't own any house-elves."

"George! Language!" scolded Molly as she entered the room. Upon seeing the elf, she jerked to a halt. "Well, hello, there. Who might you be?"

The elf turned it's hugely round eyes on Molly. "I be Winky. I be waiting for Master George's orders."

Molly's brows jumped at that and she turned to George, shooting him a questioning look.

"Honestly, Mum. I have no idea what this elf is talking about."

Molly kneeled in front of the little creature and spoke kindly. "Who told you George was your master?"

"Winky cannot say."

Sighing, she stood and stared at George. "Are you absolutely sure you didn't do anything?"

"No, Mum."

Molly studied her prankster son. Finding no trace of mischief in his eyes, she nodded and puffed out a breath. Just then, Harry and Ginny entered the room. Both looked they were trying very hard to appear innocent. Her eyes narrowed slightly as they jumped between the two. Because she was watching, she caught the subtle wink between Harry and the house-elf.

"What do you two know about this?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Would you believe nothing?" asked Harry, a little too innocently, lips slightly twitching.

"Oh, no. I don't believe that for an instant. Spill."

Suddenly, Ginny snickered and it triggered Harry's own. A second later, they both were laughing so hard they had to lean against the other in order to stay upright. Every time they caught a glance of either Molly's expression or George's face, it would set them off again. Finally laughed out, the two plopped down at the table.

"Okay, okay," Ginny admitted. "Yes, we know about this. Tell them, Harry."

"Well, after Winky and Kreacher finished Grimmauld Place, Winky needed something to do. She was never happy being free so I fixed it."

George performed a perfect imitation of a fish as he tried several times to speak. After several attempts, he found his voice.

"But why me?"

Ginny snorted. "Let's face it, George. You need help. The shop hasn't been touched in months. There's no telling what your flat looks like."

"Well, excuse me if I'm still missing my brother!"

"Hey, don't take that tone with me," Ginny returned. "I miss him, too, George. Harry's helped me a lot."

"Sorry," George muttered.

"This is where you say 'Thanks, Harry'."

George smiled briefly. "Thanks, Harry. I guess. I don't even know what to do with a house-elf, though."

"Ginny just mentioned a couple things."

"Yeah, um, I guess." George turned to the elf who had been silently waiting. "I guess you can go to the shop and fix anything that's been broken." Glancing at the sky, he amended his statement. "But don't work all night."

"I's get to working on that right away, Master George." Winky disappeared.

George made a face. "That's going to take some time to get used to."

"You'll appreciate her," Harry said, sympathetically. He remembered all too well what it had been like to suddenly own an elf. "Trust me. Treat her well and you'll have her undying loyalty."

George nodded his understanding and left the room, still in a bit of shock. Molly watched him go before turning back to Harry and Ginny.

"That was a lovely thing you did for George—and Winky. While I'm not sure I agree with owning an intelligent being, if anything or anyone can help George, perhaps Winky can."

Harry shrugged off her kind words. "I just felt that, with someone to look after, Winky would be happy and, with someone around for company, George might improve."

"Thank you, you sweet young man."

Molly gave Harry a huge hug before bustling off to busy herself.

Ooooo

Harry woke suddenly, gasping for breath, shaking violently. Sitting up, he fumbled for his glasses. Once his vision had cleared, he looked around the room, the same room he'd been staying in at the Burrow. Sighing in relief that it had only been a dream, he swiped the sweat from his brow. Figuring he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, he threw on the clothes he'd worn yesterday, foregoing a shower fearing he'd wake someone.

Slipping out his room, he headed down to the kitchen, thinking a cup of tea would do wonders. As he maneuvered his way past creaky stairs, his thoughts turned to Burrow and he stopped a few stairs up from the ground floor in order to look around. Nothing had changed much over the years. There were still children's drawings hanging on the fireplace. Mismatched and well-worn furniture still dominated the sitting room. The old sideboard that held firewhiskey last year at Bill's wedding and recently stood empty now sported bottles of something else.

Intrigued, Harry quietly made his way over to inspect the new bottles. The bottles seemed to contain butterbeer. Picking one up, he glanced around quickly to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, he uncapped the bottle and sniffed. It _smelled_ like butterbeer. _Why are they tempting me this way? They know I can't even have butterbeer. Oh, Merlin, I miss it. That sweet, buttery taste that warms you up inside. _Licking his lips, Harry contemplated the bottle as his hand began to shake for an entirely different reason.

_It would be so easy to sneak a drink. No one would ever know._ He shook his head. _No, I would know. I can't give in. I made a promise. _Another voice in his head cajoled him. _Oh, come on, a quick little drink. You know you want it. One teeny tiny sip, that's it. _Harry sniffed the bottle again, eyes closing at the memory of how it tasted. Licking his lips again, he swallowed painfully and did one of the most difficult things he'd done recently. Recapping the bottle, he replaced it on the shelf and turned toward the kitchen. He jumped a foot when he saw both Molly and Arthur in the kitchen doorway, watching him.

"I, er, I, um," was all he could get out, a hand running through his hair.

"It's okay, Harry," Arthur said with a smile. "No need to be embarrassed. We wondered how long it would take you to notice the bottles. A very special package came yesterday while you were gone."

"Rosmerta decided to try her own recipe of butterbeer," Molly continued. "She sent us a batch asking us to test it for her. She said she made it with you in mind. You see, her version has no alcohol at all."

"None?" Harry asked, shocked. "At all?"

"None," Arthur confirmed. "Would you like to try some?"

Harry studied the drink. He wasn't so sure it was a good idea. On the one hand, he'd love to be able to drink butterbeer again. On the other, he worried he wouldn't be able to stop with this version, that maybe he'd begin to crave the real thing. Then he'd be in trouble. Molly interrupted his thoughts.

"What are you thinking, Harry? You look concerned."

"I guess I am, in a way," he said with a shrug. "I mean, I've missed it and I hate not being able to drink it anymore but then what if I start to crave the real thing? What then? What if this version isn't the same and I start craving the real thing and then can't stop?"

"Only you can answer that, Son," Arthur replied. "Just know that we're here to help. If you decide to try it and the worst happens, we'll be here to get you through it. Just keep that in mind, okay?"

Harry nodded absently. Thinking long and hard for a few moments, debating back and forth, he came to a decision. Reaching up to an upper shelf, he took down three glasses. With the Weasley's support, he felt strong, strong enough to at least try the stuff.

Once it was poured, he braced himself, hesitated for a second, then raised the glass to his lips and sampled the drink. There was that warm buttery taste he'd missed for forever. This version didn't have quite the same warming effect as the real thing but it was close. Waiting with bated breath, he searched for that out of control craving but didn't feel it. He waited an interminably long time but it never came and he smiled.

"That's really good," Harry finally said.

"Everything okay?" Molly asked.

"Surprisingly, yeah. I thought for sure I'd want to go get the real thing or something more potent but I don't. Not this time, anyway. That doesn't mean next time won't be different. I might just save this stuff for special occasions, just to be safe."

"Very wise decision," Arthur nodded in agreement. "In that case, I propose a toast." He held his glass aloft. "To Harry and the life he's about to embark on today. May it be all that he's wanted and more."

Blushing, Harry clinked his glass against the other two and took a small sip, savoring the taste. He forced himself to take his time with it. At last, his glass was emptied.

"Thanks, both of you. You'll never know how much you mean to me. You opened your hearts to someone you didn't even know. I will forever be in your debt for that."

"Oh," Molly waved away his statement. "You've already repaid us a hundredfold, Harry, by making our little girl the happiest she's ever been."

Face heating again, Harry did something else he didn't normally do. He hugged them and not just in a 'I'm only doing this to be polite' kind of way but a full 'I love you so much and want to show you how much', Molly Weasley kind of way. After a few minutes, he pulled away.

"I'll have to send Rosmerta a note to thank her but, right now," Harry yawned, suddenly feeling tired and content, "I think I'm going to try and lie down a little longer."

"Harry," Arthur stopped the young man with a hand on the other's shoulder. "I'm proud of you. I can guess what was going through your head and can imagine how tempted you probably were but you stepped away. That took a lot of strength. I hope you know we'd never tempt you in such a way."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley and, yeah, I guess I do. I mean I would have come to that conclusion if I'd thought about it."

"Good," Arthur nodded and removed his hand from Harry's shoulder.

Harry re-entered his room, peeled off the shirt and jeans and lay down. Mr. Weasley's words had truly touched Harry. Smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

Ooooo

When Harry next woke, it was mid-morning. After his shower, he wandered down to the kitchen. Voices reached him before he'd even gotten close to the entrance.

"I don't need anyone else telling me to eat or telling me to shower," came a perturbed voice.

"Winky is taking care of her Master," a determined little voice replied. "Master needs Winky."

Harry peeked into the doorway and watched as George and Winky faced off, one towering over the other, both with hands folded across their chests. He let out a snicker at the scene and covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

"They still going at it?" whispered a voice in Harry's ear. "They've been standing there going back and forth like that for awhile now."

Turning, he grinned at Ginny and nodded. They quickly turned back to the action in the kitchen when Winky spoke again.

"Tell Winky. Has Master's shop been cleaner?"

"Yes," George grudgingly answered.

"And has Master's flat above the store ever been cleaner?"

"No."

"Does Master have clean clothes? Does Master feel better now that he's clean and fed? Did Winky help Master with his joke-y things?"

"Yes," George said with a sigh.

"So Master _does _need Winky."

Defeated, George plopped into one of the chairs at the table. He studied the little elf before him. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He really did feel better and her help at the flat had been invaluable. She'd picked up all the soiled clothes lying about and cleaned them. She removed all the trash that he'd been too lazy to pick up. She'd moved a lot of Fred's things out but kept enough here or there so it wouldn't appear as if Fred's presence had been wiped completely out of the flat, mostly photos and a few of Fred's most prized possessions.

And then, Winky organized the shop's storeroom and helped rearrange the products on the shelves out front so they were artfully disorganized. She restocked the shelves with whatever remaining products he had and then helped to make more once she'd figured out how they were done. Imagine his surprise when he'd walked into his shop early this morning to find this tiny little figure slaving away at multiple cauldrons, snapping her fingers at other raw materials, making them form familiar products.

"Fine, okay, I guess I could use your help," George conceded and was rewarded with a wide elf grin.

This was the perfect time, Harry thought, to make his entrance, so he did with Ginny following behind.

"Hey, George. Hey, Winky."

"Hello, Harry Potter, Sir and Miss Weazy."

"Harry, you wouldn't believe what this elf has done."

"Oh?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! She's rearranged the front part of the store so it's not quite as chaotic. It still is a bit but it's easier to get to things now. And then, she even helped make some of the stock that I lost!"

"Wow."

"Yeah! It's bloody brilliant! I can get things done so much quicker with her help."

Winky's tiny shoulders straightened in pride at this praise.

"Glad things are working out," Harry said sincerely.

George looked the other man in the eye. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry, realizing George was saying more than just giving his thanks, nodded in acknowledgment.

"What can Winky do for Master George?"

"Um," George stalled, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I think my dress robes for the wedding need spiffing up."

Winky nodded, snapped her fingers and disappeared to do his bidding.

"Don't worry," Harry said with a chuckle, slapping the Weasley brother on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it, eventually."

"But Harry. I can think of others who could use her more than I can. Mum, for instance. Or Andromeda even seeing as she's having to take care of Teddy."

"Mum's not going to have much to do around here after tonight and Andromeda's going to have Kreacher helping her once Harry and I go back to school."

"Right."

"If Hermione gives you any grief, send her to me."

"Will do," George said, nodding enthusiastically. He did _not_ fancy the idea of being on the receiving end of _that_ witch's scorn. Sometimes she was as bad as Ginny.

Ooooo

By mid-afternoon, guests began arriving. All of their friends that had attended Harry's birthday celebration, returned, dressed in nice but casual clothes. Then McGonagall arrived dressed in an all black robe. She smiled her greetings to both Harry and Ginny before walking outside to the area set aside for the ceremony. Poppy and Pomona were next to floo in. Hagrid came next, engulfing Harry in a bear hug, already blubbering about how proud he was. Flitwick was the next one to arrive. On his heels came Andromeda and Teddy. Harry immediately took Teddy and began playing with him. The more time he'd spent with his godson, the more comfortable he felt. Healer Emenda was the last to arrive.

By the time everyone had arrived, Molly had an early supper spread out a long table in the back yard. George was teased mercilessly about Winky. Hermione huffed a bit but didn't seem too upset. Several times, Harry was asked if he was nervous yet and each time his answer remained the same. No. Harry juggled Teddy in one arm and eating but he refused to let anyone take him away.

That changed, however, once the meal was consumed. Harry and Ron were shooed away from the Burrow so the backyard could be prepared, not to mention to allow Ginny and Hermione to get ready. Harry and Ron shrugged and disappeared to Grimmauld Place. Ron commented on the house's new look, laughing that the old Blacks would have hated it. They played a few games of chess before deciding it was time to get ready.

Oooo

Harry stood before the mirror. _Now_ he was getting nervous. He worried that what he decided to wear was just a little _too_ casual, even though he and Ginny had agreed on it. His white linen long-sleeved, button down shirt had a flat bit of material sown flat onto it from the shoulder to almost the hem, halfway between the buttons and the sides. The strips kind of reminded Harry of suspenders. Halfway between these 'straps' and the buttons, a small, leafy vine had been stitched in red in a slightly serpentine way starting even with his chest to a few inches above the hem. He wore the shirt untucked from his black linen trousers. On his feet were black dress shoes.

"You look fine, Harry. Stop worrying."

Harry turned from the mirror. Ron wore a similar white shirt but without the vines on the chest. Instead, the vines encircled the wrist cuffs and were in green. His trousers were a light tan color with matching dress shoes.

"I have to admit, Harry, I'm glad you went the informal route. I wasn't looking forward to wearing some fancy suit and tie or robes in this heat, even _with_ cooling charms."

Harry grinned at Ron's shudder. "Yes, well, Ginny and I didn't want anything fancy. I'm just wondering if we've gone too casual."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, Harry. It's _your_ wedding. Who cares what anyone else thinks? The wedding is a reflection of you and Ginny and this is what you wanted. Anyone who thinks otherwise can just deal with it."

Touched, and a little surprised at Ron's perception, Harry nodded. "Thanks, Ron. I think I needed to hear that."

"I'm here for you, mate." Ron laughed when Harry tried to flatten his hair. "Forget it, Harry. It's not happening. Besides, Ginny seems to like it that way."

Harry laughed sheepishly. He glanced in the mirror again. On a whim, he unbuttoned the topmost button and sighed. Much better. He didn't feel as if he was choking now.

"We should probably get going, Harry."

"Right."

After making sure Kreacher was going to be attending the ceremony, Harry and Ron returned to the Burrow. They weren't allowed into the house so they walked around to the back and sighed once passing through a cooling charm. Getting a good look at the backyard, Harry stopped cold.

White folding chairs sat in rows facing a slightly raised platform. Ribbons and white bows decorated the greenery without being overdone. In the four corners of the area stood tall lamps waiting to be lit. Bunches of various kinds of lilies, in various colors, in vases or pots rested in varying places alongside one and a half foot tall stags. The stags turned their heads, nodded and pawed the ground.

"Oh, Harry, dear, you look gorgeous," Molly cried.

Harry's attention turned to the woman before him, blushing. "Thanks." He pointed to the stag and lilies. "Did you do this?"

"Well, it was my idea but Filius helped with the charm work. I know how much you wanted your parents here. I know it's not the same but-"

"It's fantastic. Thanks," he choked out.

Molly looked Ron over. "Ron, you look gorgeous, as well. You know, I wasn't so sure about this casual thing for a wedding but now, seeing the two of you, I was definitely wrong."

Molly rushed off to finalize a few more things. Harry noticed a radio sitting on a table quietly playing the love songs he'd picked out while Ginny had been busy doing wedding planning. While she'd been getting fitted for her dress, he'd gone to Ottery St Catchpole hoping for a music store. Sure enough, they had one and he found CD with a bunch of love songs. He'd learned the ones he'd liked best, jotted them down and snuck it to Hermione for her to copy onto a separate disc while he and Ginny had been looking at the house. He knew some of the songs were from the US and from the 1980s but that didn't diminish the emotion he felt coming through.

Inhaling deeply, peace stole over him. Even the catcalls and whistles from his friends couldn't displace it. Slowly, Harry and Ron made their way to the platform where Minerva was currently sitting.

"Mr. Potter, Harry," she said softly, "you look very handsome. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus would be very proud."

"Thanks, Professor."

"The look suits you as well, Ronald."

Ron's answer was a typical Weasley blush.

"Are you ready? Do you have your vow prepared? Do you have the rings?"

"Oh!" Harry turned to Ron and handed over the little box with the rings. "This has both of our rings. One of them needs to get to Ginny, or well, Hermione I guess, actually."

Ron opened the box and whistled. The ring for Ginny was also a rose gold with two smaller stones, a ruby and an emerald, sitting inside an oval, flush to the oval's edge, with the oval slightly tilted to the right, where a solitaire would be. The band part of the ring on the left side curved up and to the right and stopped at the midpoint of the oval. On the other side of the oval, the band part did the opposite, curving down and to the left, a design called a bypass design. On the top parts of the band, along the curves to the oval, baguette diamonds flashed.

"Nice, Harry."

He pulled out the ring that was to go to Hermione and then studied the one for Ginny.

"Didn't you say the ring you had given Ginny before was an anniversary ring your dad had given your mum?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "How did you get a closely matching band then?"

"One of the times I slipped off to Diagon Alley. Ginny had to take off her ring so it didn't catch on any of the materials when she was trying different dresses. I took it by a jeweler and had this one commissioned and returned her ring. This one came to me the other day, early in the morning. Ginny never even knew her ring was gone."

"Sneaky." Ron said with a grin. "I'll go see if I can find Mum and give her the ring." He held up the one in his hand.

"So, that's taken care of," Minerva said with a grin. "Anything else need doing?"

Sheepishly, Harry laughed. "No, I think I'm set now. I actually know exactly what I want to say when it's time."

As the day edged toward early evening and the sun began descending toward the horizon, the guests were encouraged to their seats. Fleur took up her place by the radio. Harry had asked her to take control of the music for the wedding and showed her how to operate it and which discs to play. At a small nod from Molly, Fleur switched discs and soon a song called Eternal Flame from a 1980s all-female group began to play.

Briefly, Harry closed his eyes and inhaled. He then turned to look down toward the back door. First, Hermione appeared. She was dressed in a button down, sleeveless, V-necked, tunic-style shirt and wide legged, loose fitting dressy trousers or leggings or whatever girls called them, he wasn't sure. Her clothes were the exact same shade of tan as Ron's trousers. Around Hermione's waist was a wide, carnelian red belt. Her dress sandals were a matching shade of red. Around her wrist and neck, Hermione wore free-form nuggets of red jade. Red jade also adorned her ears. He only knew what they were because he'd overheard her talking about a set of jewelry she could wear that would be perfect.

When Ginny emerged on Arthur's elbow, his breath left him. She was beautiful in her white shimmering dress. Colors flitted across its surface as she moved. The sleeveless dress draped over her right shoulder, leaving her left bare, and loosely followed her body's curves. The skirt was full, ending at her knees in front and cascaded to just above her ankles in back. On the bodice of the dress was an leafy ivy vine that matched the one on his shirt but hers was done in green. It encircled her waist and rose halfway up the bodice, coming to a rounded point, much like a tiara.

Her hair was left long, but it seemed to have a slight more wave to it and it shone as the light of the slowly setting sun hit it. Harry didn't care. She was gorgeous and she was his. She wore the lightest of make-up. It accentuated her beauty in Harry's opinion. On her face was a smile that he imagined matched his own. Finally, _finally_, she was by his side and Arthur placed her hand in his. Then the man stepped back and sat with his wife. As one, the couple turned to McGonagall.

The old witch began the ceremony but Harry had a hard time concentrating. His attention kept wandering to the witch at his side. In the background, a song about the singer not being able to keep his eyes from wandering to a certain girl, played very softly and he mentally empathized with the singer. Before he knew it, it was time for his vow.

He got the ring from Ron and turned to Ginny.

"Ginny. The only reason I'm standing here today is because of you. I did some things that I'm not proud of. I became someone I didn't like. You gave me a reason to change who I was. There's been times when I wanted to give up the fight, to go back to what was before but then you took my hand, smiled at me and I felt better, like everything was okay. When I'm with you, the world stands still. Nothing else matters. I will love you, always."

Harry removed the old ring and slipped it onto the finger of her right hand. Then slipped the new one in its place. Then it was Ginny's turn.

Getting the ring from Hermione, Ginny turned to Harry.

"Harry. I've loved you from the moment I saw you. I didn't realize what it was at the time but by my third year, that tournament made me realize what it really was. When you finally, at long last, took notice of me, I felt like it was Heaven on Earth. I was so happy. You let me be me. You never complained about my temper, you never made me feel inadequate. I felt cherished. Last year, at school, you gave me the strength to keep going. My love for you wouldn't let me give up. And now I feel blessed because I know just how close I came to losing you forever. You still make me feel cherished. I will love you, always."

She slipped the ring onto Harry's finger.

"Your wands, please," Minerva requested.

Harry pulled his from his pocket. Ginny retrieved hers from Hermione. Brandishing their wands, they crossed the tips. Minerva lay hers on top of the two wand tips and looked out to the crowd.

"Does anyone here have any objections to these two being joined?"

Silence.

Nodding, she turned back to the couple before her. She cast the Joining spell and smiled.

"Harry and Ginny, thank you for asking me to perform this ceremony. I've been honored. I've watched you both grow into fine young people. Harry, you may kiss your bride."

Harry cupped Ginny's face, wand still in hand, his hands threading through her hair. Leaning in, he gently brushed her lips with his before taking it deeper. Just as their kiss began, the sun reached the horizon bathing them in golden light. Fleur began another song, how love had been right before the singer's eyes and how that singer had finally realized it but Harry never noticed. Nor did he notice the flashes of Dennis' camera.

A few moments passed and Harry pulled away reluctantly and faced McGonagall again. She had them face the guests.

"It's my honor to introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Potter."

Claps, catcalls and whistles sounded, not to mention more than a few joyous sniffs. Harry gripped Ginny's hand tightly while getting a back-slapping from a grinning Ron and a hug from a teary-eyed Hermione. Molly came next, tears running down her face. Arthur hugged them both.

As the new couple was greeted by the others, the lamps came on sending out enough light to see by but keeping it soft and romantic. Once everyone gave their well-wishes, Arthur encouraged everyone to get a glass of butterbeer from those passing it out. Seeing the looks on several of Harry and Ron's classmates and knowing what they were thinking, he made to clarify his statement.

"This is a specially made butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks."

Once everyone had a glass, Arthur turned to face the newlyweds.

"Ginny, sweetheart, you look beautiful. You're radiating happiness. You've waited a long time for this. You've made me proud, sweetheart, and I'm glad things have worked out for you."

Then he addressed Harry.

"Harry. Oh, Harry. You've grown into the kind of young man any father would want for his daughter. You've been a part of this family for years. I'm glad it's finally official. You're happier than I've _ever_ seen you. I know you'll take care of one another."

Arthur raised his glass and to the guests he said, "To the Potters."

Then Dennis insisted getting lots of pictures. Some with just Harry and Ginny. Others with the wedding party. Still others with the wedding party and the bride's parents. By the time that was done, the radio was playing again and everyone insisted Harry and Ginny dance first. This played into Harry's plans. He gave a signal to Fleur. The first few notes sounded and Harry pulled Ginny onto the platform. Taking her in his arms, he began to sway to the song. Leaning down, he quietly sang the lyrics.

"_Girl, you're looking, fine tonight, and every guy has got you in his sights. What you're doing, with a clown like me, is surely one of life's little, mysteries_

So tonight I'll ask the stars above, How did I ever win your love?  
What did I do? What did I say, to turn your angel eyes my way?

Well, I'm the guy who never learned to dance, never even got one second glance.  
Across a crowded room was close enough, I could look but I could never touch.

So tonight I'll ask, the stars above, How did I ever win your love?  
What did I do? What did I say, to turn your angel eyes my way?

Don't anyone wake me, if it's just a dream 'Cause she's the best thing, ever happened to me.

All you fellows, you can look all you like, but this girl you see, she's leavin' here with me tonight.

There's just one more thing that I need to know, if this is love why does it scare me so?  
It must be somethin only you can see, 'cause girl I feel it when you look at me

So tonight I'll ask the stars above, How did I ever win your love?  
What did I do? What did I say, to turn your angel eyes my way?"

By the end of the song, they'd stopped dancing altogether and shared another tender kiss.

"I love you more than you will ever know."

"I love you, too, Harry."

A flash brought their attention to the outside world. Dennis stood there, grinning unapologetically.

"Sorry, but I couldn't pass that one up. You'll thank me later."

ooooo

The couple mingled a little longer. Cake was cut and shared. Before long, the couple was sent off on their honeymoon. Grabbing the bags, Kreacher had packed for them, Harry shrunk them and slipped them into his pocket. They walked out past the wards and Harry activated their portkey.

Once they arrived, they checked in, got their "key", which was really a counter charm to the specific locking charm used for that villa and walked a short distance to it.

"Okay, Harry, so where are we?"

"Little wizrding village on the Spanish coast."

"Really?" Ginny asked, her eyes lighting with excitement.

"Yes, really. Tomorrow we'll go to the beach."

They wandered their villa and came to the bedroom. Grinning mischievously, Ginny entered, stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Harry over her shoulder.

"Help me with my zipper, Harry?"

Gulping, Harry slowly walked up to her and, with shaking hands, slipped the zipper downward. The skin beneath his hand was the softest thing he's ever had the pleasure of touching. When the dress pooled at her feet, he closed his eyes.

"You can look, Harry," Ginny said upon turning around and finding his eyes squeezed shut.

"No, I don't think I can," he said in a husky voice. "I wouldn't be able to-"

That was all he managed before Ginny's lips contacted with his. This kiss was more passionate than the others. Ginny walked backward, her hands reaching for his shirt buttons. Feeling her legs hit the side of the bed, she reached up and removed Harry's glasses and put them on the side table, without breaking the kiss. Crawling onto the bed, she pulled Harry with her.

There they stayed for the remainder of the night.


	18. Epilogue

A week after their wedding, Harry and Ginny returned to Grimmauld Place, looking a bit tanner and a lot happier. After notifying the family they were back, Harry levitated their luggage up to their room while Ginny dropped onto the sofa in the drawing room, lying down and sighed. They'd been cocooned in their own private world and she'd been sorry to see it end. She looked around amazed, again, at the changes that had been made. She loved this room. Something about it seemed extra homey to her.

"Ginny?" she heard Harry call.

"In here, Love!"

She smiled at his approaching footsteps. A shadow fell over her face and she looked up into a pair of dancing green eyes. She loved his eyes; they were so expressive. A familiar thrill went through her as he leaned over and gave her an upside down kiss.

"Hey," Harry said softly, once they'd parted.

"Hey, yourself," Ginny countered. "Tired?"

"Nope."

A devilish light twinkled in Ginny's brown eyes. Mischief twisted the smile she wore as she grabbed the front of Harry's shirt and pulled him around to face her, all the while not breaking eye contact.

"Good," she said softly and pulled him down to the sofa with her.

An instant later, they were sharing a much more passionate kiss. As their desires grew, Harry rolled them—and landed on the floor with Ginny on top of him. The two broke apart long enough to laugh but their impromptu position switch did nothing to kill the mood. Eventually, the room became the first room to be christened in the manner all newlyweds do.

Ooooo

"Hey," Harry suddenly said sometime later, patting Ginny's thigh. "Let's go for a walk."

Ginny raised her head from its resting place on Harry's chest and looked down at him from her perch above him. She couldn't help the smile that broke out. It wasn't the idea of going for a walk but more the enthusiasm, giddiness and peacefulness she could see in Harry's eyes. Before, there were only times when it seemed his brilliant green eyes glowed but now, since they had declared their love for one another, his eyes constantly radiated their light.

"So what do you say? Up for a walk? There's a park not far from here."

Unable to deny him anything at the moment, she said, "Sure."

And so, after getting cleaned up, the two wandered their way over to the park. Arm in arm, they walked the paved paths bypassing a sand pit and some play equipment. The two stopped and watched the kids happily playing, yelling in delight at the top of their lungs. Then something happened that hadn't happened in some time. The shouts changed from happiness to horror and he began to tremble.

Feeling Harry tense, Ginny glanced up, noticed his unfocused gaze and immediately cupped his face, giving him a lingering kiss.

"It's okay, Harry," she whispered. "You're okay. It's all over. Look at me, Harry."

Finally, his gaze cleared and Ginny sighed in relief, smiling in an effort to cover how worried she'd been.

"Sorry," Harry rasped. "It just hit me out of the blue. That hasn't happened in so long."

"There's no reason to be sorry, Harry. We were warned you may have periodic flashbacks, remember? They may get few and far between but you may have them for a long time. Don't worry. It's nothing to be ashamed of. War isn't pretty."

"Yeah, I know," he said but he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed.

Looking around, he spotted the tree he used to sit under to drink away his cares. Taking Ginny's hand, he led her to it. For a long time he just stood there, staring at the patch of earth at the tree's base. When he spoke next, it was almost a whisper.

"This is where Ron found me. I was sitting here with my whiskey bottle and watching the kids play. I don't think I was thinking of much by that time. I do remember being very annoyed by Ron's appearance. I didn't care about anything anymore. I was so numb and I enjoyed it. I didn't want to feel anything again."

Ginny reached up and lovingly thumbed the tears from Harry's cheeks, taking him by surprise as he'd been unaware of their presence. Her own eyes swam with tears she refused to shed. Tears gone from his face, she continued to caress him as he continued to speak.

"I was in such a bad place then. I don't think I've ever said how much I'm grateful to you and your family. Though I hated you, Bill and Charlie at the time, you three helped me face everything. You stood by me and were there when I needed you."

"It's what families do."

Harry smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know that now. I'm just sorry I put everyone through all that."

"It's the past, Harry. As long as we don't let it dictate our actions."

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head. He stood in place, inhaling her comforting scent for a few minutes before another idea struck him. Glancing in the direction of the business district, he knew what else he needed to do.

"Come on. There's someone I need to talk to."

Puzzled, Ginny followed him out of the park, passed some houses and into the business area. Deja vu settled over her as they walked by the pub she and her brothers had found Harry sitting in after the incident at Harry's birthday party. He must have felt it too as he slowed and glanced at the pub front and then back at her. He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand as they continued to walk.

Not far from the pub, Harry suddenly jerked to a stop. Needing to gather his courage, he pulled her into a hug and kiss. It did the trick. Pushing open the door, the two went inside, a bell heralding their entrance.

Harry's attention was fixed on the man behind the counter. Luckily, it was the same one as before. The man looked up at the bell, glanced at the two in his doorway. He started to look away but did a double take. _Could it be? He looks a lot like the other boy but this one seems more relaxed, not as haunted._ He decided to take a shot.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Gerry said. "It's good to know you're still around. I was worried about you."

Harry led Ginny over to the counter.

"Sorry. I disappeared for a while." Harry sheepishly smiled. "I was getting some sense knocked into me." Harry hugged Ginny close.

"You certainly look better than the last time I saw you," Gerry said, nodding. To Ginny, he said, "Good for you."

"Ginny, this is-," Harry stopped and looked at Gerry, embarrassed that he didn't remember the guy's name.

"Gerry's the name," the proprietor said, "like it says outside."

"I thought it was but I didn't want to assume," Harry commented. "Anyway, this is my wife, Ginny."

Gerry's eyebrows shot up at that. "A little young, aren't you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe but Harry and I have been through a lot together and it's only solidified our feelings for each other."

When Harry smiled and looked to the girl, Gerry could see it in the boy's countenance. There was definitely something special and long-lasting between them.

"Well, congratulations. Forgive me for not offering any champagne."

Harry turned back to the older man, chuckled. "Oh, no worries. That's not why we're here. I've been clean for a little while now and have no intention of going back to it."

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. I hated the thought of someone as young as you being a slave to this stuff."

"Why do you sell it?" Ginny asked, genuinely curious.

"Because, for the most part, people drink responsibly."

"I just wanted to thank you," Harry cut in.

"Thank me? For what?"

"For caring about me. I didn't realize it at the time but, after having thought back over that bit of time, I've come to realize that you did. You may have let me have the whiskey but you made sure I came back to you and only you. I realized you did that so you could keep an eye on me. So, thank you."

The man waved away Harry's words. "No big deal. I'm just glad to see you've got your life back in order. So, where are you living now?"

"Over by the park but we won't be there very long. We've got one final year at our boarding school which starts the first of September."

"Oh. Well, don't be a stranger. I'd like to see you from time to time if that's okay."

Harry and Ginny both smiled. "We'd like that."

As the two turned to go, Gerry called out. "Hey, wait a minute. I think I might just have something for you, as a wedding gift."

Gerry disappeared into the back of the store. Harry and Ginny looked at each other and shrugged. A few minutes later the man returned with what seemed to be some kind of wine bottles, one in each hand. These were green with fancy labels and, once Gerry placed them on the counter, Harry could see that had a screw cap. Gerry opened one, found some plastic cups and poured some into three of them.

"Oh, don't worry," Gerry said with a laugh upon seeing their faces. "It's just white grape juice with some carbonation."

Harry picked up the cold, unopened bottle and read the label. _Sparkling white grape juice_, it read, _one hundred percent juice_. He showed the bottle to Ginny before replacing it on the counter.

Gerry handed out the cups and then rose his in a toast. "To a long and happy life."

The three tapped cups and drank. Ginny's eyes rounded as the cold, bubbly liquid hit her tongue. She downed her drink.

"That's pretty good!"

"Thanks," Harry said to Gerry.

"My pleasure. Here take both of these," Gerry grinned as he pushed the bottles to the couple.

"I couldn't. I never paid you for the other stuff and, unfortunately, I don't have any money on me right now."

"You can and you will. A wedding present, remember?"

"Yeah, alright. Thanks."

"Take care, now."

Harry and Ginny waved and left the store behind, each of them carrying a bottle of juice.

"Harry, this is really some good stuff. I wonder how hard it would be for someone like Madame Rosmerta to make."

"I don't know. It can't be that hard, though. Maybe we can ask her."

Arm in arm, the couple returned home.

Ooooo

A few days later, Harry came to another conclusion. There was someone else he needed to see before he could move on with his life. So it was, one morning, Harry found himself back at Privet Drive, standing on the front porch, finger hovering over the doorbell. With a great breath, holding tightly to Ginny's hand, he pushed the button. After a few moments, the door opened and Harry stood face to face with Aunt Petunia.

She looked older than he remembered. Her hair was grayer, her face more lined. She stood in the doorway a moment, her eyes running over him before glancing at Ginny. Something flickered in her eyes then disappeared. Then she silently backed up and let them in.

"I left a few things here. I wondered if they might still be here."

"I wouldn't know," Petunia responded, voice dull.

Harry disappeared to his room, found the few remaining items, remarkably untouched and returned to the sitting room.

"There's something I need to say, Aunt Petunia, so please hear me out."

At her tight lipped nod, he cleared his throat, paced a few steps and rubbed the back of head trying to figure out how to start.

"As you obviously know, Voldemort's gone." Petunia nodded and Harry continued. "After that last battle, I got to be in a bad place, mentally. It's taken some time but I'm getting better. I understand things better than I used to. I've learned some things about myself, some good, some bad. One thing that's taken me a very long time to learn is that I'm not abnormal; I'm not the freak you always said I was. I'm learning to see the real me, not the one you painted. I'm still trying to accept the fact I _am_ worthy of love, that I _do_ belong somewhere."

Harry paced a little more before going on.

"You have no clue what could have happened. Voldemort was an orphan, too. He grew up without any kind of loving care, living in a Muggle orphanage. He had no clue he was a wizard, either. When he attended Hogwarts, he was placed in Slytherin House, which prides itself in having members who are ambitious, cunning. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, too."

He nodded at Petunia's look of dawning horror.

"I see you're finally beginning to get the picture. Lots of parallels, huh? Here's another one. He and I are related. You see, one of my dad's ancestors was brother to one of his."

Ginny stared at him, wide eyed. She hadn't known that. She thought back to what she knew of the story. She shuddered slightly.

"That's creepy, Harry," she said with a slight frown.

"I know but it's true."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked a very pale Petunia.

"I'm telling you this to try to get you to understand what your actions could have set in motion. I'm hoping that by understanding what your hatred could have caused, maybe you'll think twice in the future about how you deal with people you see as being different or odd."

"You're right, Harry. I've been very unkind to you over the years. I can't undo any of that but I can admit that I'm glad to see you're alright. I may not have cared for you the way I should have but I didn't like the idea of you dying at that monster's hands, either."

Petunia looked away from the young man who looked very much like the young man who had stolen her sister's heart.

"All of that being said," Harry said quietly, "I feel I should thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Because you kept me. Regardless of how you treated me, you still kept me. You took me in and fed me, clothed me and, because of it, protected me. I may not be alive if you hadn't."

"You look just like them, you know," Petunia said softly. "When you two are together, you could easily pass as them to the casual observer." She turned to Ginny. "Her hair was a deeper red, though, and was a little taller. Her eyes," she glanced back at Harry, "were green, not brown."

The front door opened, preventing anything else from being said. Three pairs of eyes turned toward the sound. Dudley entered the sitting room and came to a sudden halt and the totally unexpected scene before him.

"You _did _survive," he said in surprise.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Good," Dudley commented, awkwardly looking around.

A heavy silence fell onto the quartet, each staring at something and not looking at anyone.

"Well, I think we're going to go," Harry finally said. "You won't have to worry about me coming back. Hope things go well for you all from now on."

Harry picked up his broom and uniforms. Ginny stood and joined Harry. As the two were heading for the door, a voice called out.

"Wait!"

Harry turned back to see his aunt standing, a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Maybe...maybe we don't have to be complete strangers, right? I mean, an occasional letter or card, maybe?"

"I think I can do that."

Petunia nodded. Harry said his good-byes and walked out of number 4 Privet Drive, shutting the door on an old life and walking away with a beautiful wife, ready to embrace the new life waiting for him.


End file.
